


Harm

by Loxare



Series: Hinder [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws
Genre: Angry batpeople, Armed Robbery, Bullying Mention, Cancer, Don't worry, Gen, Graphic descriptions of delicious Chinese food., Homeless Youth, Kids get shot, Knitting and Crochet, Laboratories, Loxie does a lot of research into Egyptian foods, Loxie tackles RHATO, More tags to be added, PTSD, People get shot in the head, Referenced/past torture, Rocket Launchers, Stitches, Suspicious Children, blood mention, car jacking, child abuse mention, lasagna, murder mention, no one dies, rape mention, request fic, stalking mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-07 00:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 64,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10347972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxare/pseuds/Loxare
Summary: Batman knows that Red Hood, scourge of Bludhaven and current League headache, and his formerly-deceased Robin are one and the same. Jason will not allow Batman to get in between him and his work. And the children of Bludhaven have different ideas on what his work entails.





	1. Before

This was a stupid idea.

No, really. A truly stupid, horrible, bound to get him caught, interrogated and incarcerated idea. But he had to know.

The climbing hook grabbed onto a shallow outcropping of stone, the cloth wrapping making the climb more dangerous, but preventing scratches and gouges that would give him away. Holding his entire weight up with one arm, he reached up one last time, hook snagging the edge of the cliff.

Jason smiled with satisfaction as he sat on the edge. He'd picked his moment well. Batman was out taking care of some world ending satellite or another, Alfred was restocking the kitchen for an upcoming gala, and Nightwing and Robin were doing team stuff. For now, the Batcave was completely empty.

Except for Jason. Letting out a small groan as he stood - it was a straightforward climb, but not an easy one - he made his way over to the computer. Jason pulled back the chair, the leather old and just comfortable enough to prevent back strain, but not enough to fall asleep in easily. Not that it stopped Batman.

With a sigh - he could still turn around, he didn't have to see this - he booted up the computer. Nightwing hadn't changed his password since Jason had died. It was still “Big Top”, which was a bit on the nose. But hey, it got him in. He didn't have much time, so he set a search running with his name as a keyword.

He stuck a USB drive into the computer and copied everything that came up. Audio files, training and security videos, reports, journal entries. Then he looped the cameras, using footage from an hour ago and then wiped all trace that he'd been here. The video would unloop well after he'd left.

Anchoring his climbing hook on the Batmobile’s tire, Jason tied a line to the handle and tossed it down the cliff. He scaled down, flicked the line so the hook came tumbling down after him, then prepared to leave.

The Cave was nearly impossible to enter and exit without the proper codes, but Jason knew a way with easily avoidable security. As far as he knew, it was the only way and he fully intended to seal it off on his way out.

Finally, out of the Cave and on his way back to Bludhaven, he opened his belt and looked at the flash drive. He had to know. But at the same time, he was scared to find out.

It wasn’t until six months later when he was recovering from fourteen broken bones in a not-quite legal hospital, with Casey colouring his hair blue and Angus guarding the door, that he finally worked up the courage to plug the drive into a laptop.

 

* * *

It couldn’t be.

Bruce couldn’t have kept something this big from him for this long. Sure, he rarely shared information, but this wasn’t about the job, or League business, or some little need-to-know thing. This was Jason. Bruce wouldn’t keep this back. He wouldn’t.

But just in case, Dick pushed his motorcycle a little faster, the highway from New York to Gotham disappearing behind him as he took the hidden turnoff to the Cave. He only paused once, to input his access code at the waterfall. He really needed to remember to link up his new Nightcycle with the Cave security.

With a roar and a screech, he pulled his bike up next to the Batmobile and climbed off. Pulling off the helmet he had only worn because it was really icy on the roads, Dick stalked up to Bruce, sitting cowl down at the computer.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Is Oracle’s information correct?” Because Barbara had known for months. But when Dick had confronted her about why she hadn’t told him, she’d said Bruce confirmed it false. That he was taking care of it. “Is Jason back?”

Bruce’s mouth twisted slightly, still staring at the screens with his fingers folded under his nose. Dick knew that twist. He had lived with that twist for years. It only showed up when someone gained access to knowledge that they weren’t supposed to or when Alfred threatened to unplug the computer if Bruce didn’t go to sleep this instant. Since Alfred wasn’t here, Dick could assume his question answered.

Furious, he grabbed the chair and pulled, so Bruce was facing him, so Bruce would have to deal with him. “Really? Jason has been back for almost a year and you don’t even tell me? I had to hear it from Tim, who heard it from Conner, who heard it from Clark!” He leaned back slightly, trying to relax from his attack ready posture (stand on the balls of the feet, knees bent, hands loose and out from his body) because looking like he was going to punch Bruce in the face had never helped before and wouldn’t help now.

Didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Depending on Bruce’s answer.

Bruce scowled a bit, turning back to the computer and pulling up a file. “I didn’t tell you because it was none of your business.”

He should be surprised, but somehow, he really wasn’t. With a roar, Dick’s fist collided with Bruce’s jaw. “Of course it’s my business! Jason is family, I have a right to know!”

“Really?” Rubbing his jaw, Bruce picked himself up off of the floor. “Last I checked, this family didn’t kill. And yet Jason, the Red Hood, is wanted for the murders of over a hundred criminals in Bludhaven, and a dozen in Metropolis.”

“What?” Dick shot forward, closing on the screens as Bruce pulled up the relevant data. Sure enough, dates, times and locations of each of the murders, police files, and arrest warrants filled the screen in damning black and white. A few even had photos, grisly things ranging from headshots to what looked like torture.

And of course, for Bruce, this was not just evidence, it was fact. It was very extensively researched, from multiple sources. But…

But Bruce had never worked in Bludhaven. He hadn’t. He didn’t know how widespread the corruption went, how far the police would go to cover up their own crimes, or how anyone and everyone official – from the lowest street cop to the mayor’s office – were so deep in the mob’s pockets you couldn’t find them with an Alvin-class submarine.

So all of this? It was very likely a frame job. A really good one, making Dick wonder if Blockbuster was really dead (you don’t get out of that so easily Grayson. He’s dead. You let it happen), but a frame job nonetheless. “I have to find him.”

Bruce snorted. “I’ve already checked all the hospitals. No one with his general description or injuries has been checked in.”

“All the hospitals you know about,” Dick said flippantly. “There’s more black market hospitals in Bludhaven than gargoyles in Gotham.” And Dick knew the locations of  all of them. Well, most of them. Half. But he had a good general idea of where the rest were.

“Keep out of this Dick.”

What. “Excuse you?” No way in hell!

“I mean it. This has nothing to do with you.” Bruce looked fully serious, but Dick couldn’t find it in him to care.

“Maybe if you had told me right away, I would trust your judgement enough to keep away.” Unlikely, but it was possible. As it was… “But there is no way in hell I am staying out, and you can’t stop me from leaving.”

Bruce kept talking at him, but Dick had stopped listening. He climbed back on his motorbike, strapped on his helmet, and started it up. The roar of the bike drowning out anything else Bruce had to say, Dick sped off.

Next stop? Bludhaven.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome to Help 2: the Helpening! As you may have noticed in the tags, this is a request fic! That means, you, the reader, gets to decide what Jason does in relation to the children of Bludhaven! It can be anything from the fluffiest fluff to the most horrible angst.
> 
> A few things though: First, please only request Jason and children things for now. Any contact with the Bats is already planned and drafted.
> 
> Secondly, I have the first five chapters written, and they will be posted in the next few days. After that, it'll be one to two weeks for updates.
> 
> Finally, again, this is a request-driven fic. More reader input means more chapters. With Help (which was originally posted on FF.net over a year ago), I panicked when the requests dried up and ended it. I'll do my best not to do that this time.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy Harm.


	2. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason goes out on a request (even though he really shouldn't). Something unexpected happens.

“Casey?”

The little girl perched on his headboard moved so her face was in Jason’s field of vision. “Yes Red?”

Calmly, he flipped a page on his book. “What did I say about permanent markers?”

Casey pouted, but he heard the distinctive click of a marker cap being put back on. “Please don’t.” She tossed it back into her bag, pulling out a washable marker instead.

But she hadn’t finished. “Because…?” Jason let the word trail off.

“If I use washable, I can make a new work of art every day.” Her pout vanished under a smile as she applied the neon green to the white streak in his hair.

“There you go.” He was sitting in his hospital room with half a dozen kids sitting on or around him. Casey, of course. Tomas was practicing his violin in the corner, the ear shattering shrieks of a poorly played note becoming less frequent as he went. Elliot was sitting on Jason’s feet, playing gin rummy with Caroline who was sitting on Jason’s stomach. Marcelle was the only high school student in the room. She was skipping class tomorrow to make up her sleep, but had brought her homework to work on. And Marcelle’s younger brother Ed was sitting quietly, playing with a fidget ring one of the other kids had brought him.

He felt a bit bad. If he hadn’t tried to sneak out once or twice (or three times, or eight times…) before Ivan’s dad said he could go, the kids wouldn’t feel the need to stay up all night to make sure he stayed put. But Jason couldn’t help himself. It had been two months and Batman hadn’t shown up yet, which was making him beyond antsy.

For the fifth time in the past hour, his eyes wandered towards the laptop tossed carelessly on one of the chairs. Two days ago he’d finally looked at the files he’d taken from the Batcomputer, which had resulted in his bed being overturned, two broken windows and what he could only shamefully describe as a temper tantrum that had lasted an hour before the kids managed to calm him down. He tried blaming the tears on the pain meds, but they didn’t believe him and he could tell. Thankfully, they didn’t call him on it.

With a sigh, Jason turned the page and tried to focus on his book.

Almost immediately, his phone went off. “Red Hood collectibles, genuine lead bullets for every scum collector. How may I help you today?”

“ _I have a stalker,_ ” the boy on the other line sounded terrified. “ _At least, I thought it was a stalker. But he came after me with a knife, and now he's chasing me._ ”

Jason lurched out of bed. His legs twinged, but the fractures had healed at least a week ago. “Where are you?” Shoving the phone between his ear and shoulder, he reached under the bed for his bag, the one he insisted on having in the room every time they moved him.

“ _Heading north on the Spine. Passing a Chinese grocery store._ ”

And wasn't that just like Bludhaven? A terrified child running from someone with a knife, on a busy street like the Spine, and the kid had to call a murderer for help. “On my way.”

“No, you're not,” Marcelle said as soon as the phone call ended. “You are going to sit here until the doctor releases you.”

Jason was part way out the window, Tomas and Elliot both trying to pull him back. “I can't! Someone out there-”

“Needs help, I know.” Having crossed the room, Marcelle grabbed Jason as well. “Why can't you let the Red Kids handle it? They've been doing good so far!”

And everything Jason was rebelled at the idea. “They've been giving blankets and food to homeless kids and breaking up minor scuffles. This is a knife-wielding psycho!” The oldest and most well trained of them could handle small stuff like that. Anything else would paint a target on their backs faster than Ani could spray a red helmet on a brick wall. Which was very fast.

“They. Can. Handle. It!” Punctuating each word with an ever more vicious pull, Marcelle and the boys were nearly dislodged Jason's hand from its death grip on the window sill. On one hand, Jason should not be getting pulled back by three kids. Maybe he should stay in. On the other, it didn't take any strength to pull a trigger.

“They're going to get themselves killed!” Something in his expression or his voice or his body language made Marcelle let go. On the bed, Casey and Caroline looked worried. Red Hood didn't raise his voice often. Ed was rocking and holding his hands over his ears. Quieter, Jason said, “I already told you I don't want them out there. And while I'm out, I'm going to think of some very good reasons why. But for now, keep them out of this.” Before anyone could reply, he was out the window, helmet on and swinging.

Maybe he should leave Bludhaven. All he wanted, all he ever wanted, was to shoot the guilty in their skulls and make the city safer. But ever since his showdown with Superman, every kid and their dog had tried doing what he did. Busting in on abusive parents, following child trafficking rings for information, taking on pedophiles. It had taken so much arguing and pleading to get them to stop, to slow down, to convince them that blankets were just as important. That nothing was worth their lives.

It didn't help that in the two months he'd been laid up, crime had been on a rise. A sharp rise. Like standing at the bottom of a cliff and looking up. Things were almost worse in Bludhaven than before he'd first started shooting people.

Clearly, it was well past time for him to get back on his feet. With him on the streets, the criminals would have something to fear again, and more importantly, the kids wouldn't be able to use him not being there as an excuse to risk their own lives doing something stupid.

Speaking of risk, the people of Bludhaven were being true to form and taking none in regards to their own health and well being. The kid was easy to see from a few stories up. He was running and panting and asking strangers for help. Every single one avoided eye contact and continued on their way. Sure, the Spine wasn't as busy at four in the morning, but the kid ran into someone every few minutes.

The maniac following the kid was easy to see as well. The knife glinted in the street lamps, and he swung it as he ran, so the sidewalk in front of him was completely clear. Every single person hiding in a doorway or alley would probably survive the night, but it sure made it easy for Knifey to see and therefore keep following the kid.

Also, really easy for Red Hood to pull his sniper rifle from his back and shoot the guy in the skull without worrying about hitting anyone else. Pulling out his phone, he dialed the last incoming call. “Kid? I got your guy.”

“ _Thanks... Red,_ ” the kid said between pants. “ _Sorry I... called. Know... you were... still... recover...ing._ ”

“It's cool. I'm mostly healed up anyways. Need me to get you out of there?”

“ _I got it. I have an... uncle up the street. If you hadn't... made it, that's where I... was headed._ ” He paused to take a deep breath. When he finished, he sounded a lot better. “ _Thanks again. I'm Carmelo by the way. Carmelo Pulnik._ ”

Jason raised an eyebrow at that. No wonder the kid had a stalker. The Pulnik's were one of the few rich families in Bludhaven to get their money from mostly legal means. Not being in the pockets of the larger crime families made for a lot of enemies. “Got it. You keep safe Carmelo. Call if you need anything.” And he hung up.

Sitting back, he let himself relax a moment. Although he would never admit it to the kids (especially Marcelle), he was wiped. His left arm was still in a cast and hadn't taken kindly to the ten minute swing across the city. Plus, he had the feeling his legs would become fairly reliable weather forecasters from now on, if the way they were aching was any indication. Fractures maybe, but it was still too early to be landing on rooftops and jumping off them again.

Including the two months of bed rest and subsequent muscle atrophy, he wasn't doing great. Red Hood would have to take it slow for a month while he got his strength back.

He was nearly recovered from his run across the city when the roof gravel crunched in that particular way it did when someone sneaky landed on it. He swiveled, rifle up and aimed at the blue bird on the guy's chest.

Wait.

“Fuck.” At that, Red Hood stood, launching himself off the building in the same movement. He freefell for a moment to build momentum, then shot out his grapple. But even then, he wasn't fast enough to escape the, “Jason, wait!” that followed him.

Like hell. As he swung over the police tape surrounding his crazy stalker (and of course the police would respond to a dead maniac with a knife, but not a live one), Red Hood tried to think about how he could get out of this. He couldn't use his knowledge of the city to his advantage because Nightwing knew almost as much as he did about it.

Neither could he outrun him. Red Hood had made his grapple based on a vague memory from eight years ago. Learning how to disassemble and reassemble it, how it worked, how to fix it. Nightwing's grapple, based on sound alone, was way more high tech and from the few blurry camera phone videos online, probably had more than one line and faster recoil.

Turned out, it didn't matter than Nightwing had a better grapple. Red Hood landed wrong on the next rooftop, twisting his ankle and going into a roll that ended with him landing on his cast. Pain shot up his limbs as he struggled to his hands and knees. Even as he did, he knew it was no use. He'd dropped his grapple when he'd landed, and now Nightwing was between them.

“Jason?” The word was filled with hope and trepidation.

Red Hood flopped back, sitting against an air conditioner. He cradled his arm to his stomach as he said, “yeah.” With a bit of effort, he pulled off the helmet.

There was a moment of silence. Jason didn't look at Nightwing's face. Didn't want to see what might be there. Finally, Nightwing broke it. “You... you're alive. You're alive.” And when he did look up, Nightwing had fallen to his knees, hands to his face like he was crying. But when he looked up, his cheeks were dry. “Why didn't you come home? Why didn't you tell us?”

And Jason couldn't stop himself from mumbling, “didn't think you would care.” Because why would they?

Nightwing mouthed the words, like he had to roll them around to understand them, like they were so foreign. “Of... of course we would care!” It was said with enough vehemence that Jason thought Nightwing might even believe it. “Of course we would, and we do! You're family, you're my brother-”

“Since when?” Jason cut him off. A second ago, he had been sitting in his own defeat, knowing that nothing good could come of this. Now, now he was angry. “Since when have you ever considered me your brother? You didn't give me the time of day when I was Robin! I saw you once. Once in that entire time, all those years!” Jason could feel tears pricking at his eyes, but he ignored them. “So no, _Nightwing_ ,” and he spat the word like a curse, “I didn't think you would care. You never did.”

Jason could see the potential replies flash across Nightwing's face. I know I never showed it. You have to understand. Jason didn't want to hear them. “If you'll excuse me, I have a job to do.”

“I can help you.” Jason froze at the words. “If you’re being framed for all of this, I can help you clear your name.”

It was a struggle to pick himself back up. He tugged his helmet on, leaning heavily on the air conditioner. “Nothing to clear. I killed every single one of the people they say I did, and more besides. And you know what?” Nightwing lifted his head a bit, not enough to look Red Hood in the eyes, but enough that Jason could see the hope draining out of his face, being replaced with anger. “They deserved it. Every last one. Just like Blockbuster deserved it.”

He trudged to the other side of the building, giving Nightwing a wide berth as he did. When he finally reached his grapple, Nightwing found his voice. “You're hurt.”

Red Hood snorted. “Yeah. You can thank your hero for that one. Big blue boy scout isn't the saint everyone thinks he is, is he?” He picked up his grapple and checked the line. It was fine for now, but two mad dashes across the city was wearing on the spring.

Another beat of silence, then, “Why?” The question was strangled and hoarse and rather open ended.

Red Hood knew what Nightwing was asking. Why did he start killing? If he answered though, then there would be no end to the Bat incursions. “Why am I in Bludhaven? That's on you. When you let Blockbuster die, he left a power vacuum. So many underlings and unaffiliated gang members trying for the empire. So thanks.” The last word had more than a little sarcasm in it. Still, he hoped the guilt would keep Nightwing away.

A few more limping steps brought him to the edge of the roof. He paused, turning to see Nightwing still on his knees, slumped over with his back turned. “One more thing. And you can spread the word. If you, any of you, come into Bludhaven again, I will shoot you. You, Batman, Robin. I don’t care. Stay away from me.”

Red Hood took a slower route back to the office building that fronted as an insurance company but housed Ivan's dad's illicit practice. He endured Marcelle's lecture as he wrapped his ankle, then pretended to sleep until she believed him.

Around six, the kids fell asleep on the other beds in the room. Jason snuck out to the roof of the building and cried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'd just like to tell you that the first five chapters are written and posted on both my FF account and my tumblr, so if you're impatient, they're there. Same username. If you can wait, the rest will be up within a few days!
> 
> Regular chapter format starts again next chapter.
> 
> Have a good weekend my lovely readers~
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: Moving Chapter 1's end notes here, because for some reason, it kept showing up at the latest chapter. Does anyone know how to stop that? Anyways. 
> 
> Hello, and welcome to Help 2: the Helpening! As you may have noticed in the tags, this is a request fic! That means, you, the reader, gets to decide what Jason does in relation to the children of Bludhaven! It can be anything from the fluffiest fluff to the most horrible angst.
> 
> A few things though: First, please only request Jason and children things for now. Any contact with the Bats is already planned and drafted.
> 
> Secondly, I have the first five chapters written, and they will be posted in the next few days. After that, it'll be one to two weeks for updates.
> 
> Finally, again, this is a request-driven fic. More reader input means more chapters. With Help (which was originally posted on FF.net over a year ago), I panicked when the requests dried up and ended it. I'll do my best not to do that this time.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy Harm.


	3. Running for Home and Red Giraffes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kid runs away and another wants his stuffed hippo.

Two weeks after releasing himself from the hospital (a day before his actual release) and Red Hood was back on patrol. Well, running late on patrol. He would have been at the warehouse an hour ago, but he kept stopping to look over his shoulder. For reasons completely unrelated to Nightwing showing up in Bludhaven. Plus, his usual route normally took him past a bunch of street cameras, so he had to go around those. Also for unrelated reasons.

Sometimes, Jason wondered if he was lying to himself too much. Probably not.

He was about three blocks away and twenty minutes late for the meeting of the major crime bosses in Bludhaven when he saw something at street level, so he grappled down for a better look.

A kid, around twelve, carrying a stuffed backpack that was way too big for him. From the state of his clothes, he wasn't a street kid. Too nice, and more importantly, clean. And from the furious tears on his face, he wasn't going to a sleep over.

And behind the kid, some guy with a knife. Clearly, he was going to take the kid's backpack. Which was just asking for the Red Hood to jump from the roof onto his shoulders. Which is good because that's what happened.

The kid jumped at the crash, whirling around with a taser in his hand. Well, at least he was prepared. Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “Good job with the taser kid. Guess I didn't need to stop this crap stain after all.” He hefted the man under his boot up, looking him up and down. The man didn't look like a druggie. “Jeez dude. You look half starved. Here,” he pressed a voucher into the clearly-homeless guy's hand. “There's a hot dog vendor on Fifth and Blue. Give him that, he'll punch it and give you a hot dog.” The voucher was good for ten hot dogs, prepaid by Red Hood. He had half a dozen in his belt that he gave to various people when they looked like they needed food.

As the guy clutched the voucher like a lifeline, Jason turned to the kid, who had his taser dangling by his side as he looked at Jason with some sort of awe. “You're Red Hood.”

Jason nodded, not taking off his helmet just yet. “Come on. Let's get off the streets before someone decides you still look like a target. What's your name by the way? And do you have any allergies?”

“Um. Anthony Santana, and no, not really. I mean, the cold gives me hives sometimes, but that's it.”

“Come on, Anthony, let's see if Min Yu Eatery is still open.” The Eatery was Jason's favourite. It was as close to homemade as he could find in Bludhaven, clean, affordable, and the owner liked him. Partly because he was a good customer, partly because he had gotten her kid out of some trouble with a gang or three. By the time they got there, the place had closed, but Min saw him through the window and opened up. “Missed me by five minutes Hood! You're lucky the stove is still lit or you'd have to eat cold leftovers!”

“Min, you know I'd eat anything you made, hot, cold or otherwise.” Jason gestured to Anthony. “Min, this is Anthony. He's running away from home and needs a good meal before he leaves. Anthony, this is Min Yu, purveyor of delicious food and wielder of a large spoon. Do not make her mad.”

Min waved the aforementioned spoon threateningly. “And don't you forget it. Shame on you Hood, for ever thinking I'd serve you something cold. Now go sit down. Food will be out when it comes.”

Jason pulled off his helmet as he slid into the booth. Anthony cautiously slid in beside him. After a moment, he asked, “So how did you know I was running away?”

Grabbing a pair of chopsticks and laying them on his napkin, Jason answered, “The massive backpack mostly. And your clothes are a bit too clean for you to be living on the streets.” Anthony nodded like that made sense. Which it probably did. By now, most of the kids in Bludhaven knew he had lived on the streets when he was younger, so he knew what he was talking about.

“Are...” Anthony hesitated, “are you going to make me go back?”

Jason pulled a face. “Not if you don't want to. But I would like to know why you're running away and if you have somewhere to go. Don't tell me if you don't want, but if I don't know you're safe, it's going to keep me up at night.” Min came by with tea, and both of them thanked her profusely.

“You're up all night anyways,” Anthony said flippantly, then turned red with embarrassment. “I mean, aren't you? With the crime fighting and the roof... swinging... and...” He trailed off as Jason started laughing.

“Yes, I guess I am up all night. Fine then, it'll keep me up all day.” Jason lifted the lid of the tea pot to check if it was ready. Nope. Another minute. “Do you want me to start guessing? Because I will.” No visible bruises, but that didn't mean much while the kid was wearing a coat and scarf. However, the way that he had never flinched when Jason touched him, and how he had just followed him to an unknown location spoke volumes. So it wasn't abuse or bullies driving this kid out of his house.

Anthony wrinkled his nose. “It's... a lot of things changed at my house, and... first it was the baby, and then we moved, and the new school and I don't know anyone yet and...” He sighed, fiddling with his chopsticks. “I miss Gotham.”

Jason raised an eyebrow while he poured tea in both of their cups. “Filing that under, 'thing's I never thought I'd hear, ever.' Baby brother or sister?”

“Sister. Her name is Carina. And I get that babies need attention, a lot of attention, I've known that since Mom got pregnant, but...” He trailed off when Min brought the food. Jason got egg foo yung with rice and mixed veggies, Anthony got a steamed fish with similar sides.

“You're lonely.” Min declared as she refilled the tea pot with hot water. At Jason's questioning glance, she smiled smugly. “The acoustics in here are amazing. All sound eventually ends up in the kitchen. That's the best way to catch dine and dashers. And you,” she turned to Anthony, “do you have a destination in mind?”

Anthony nodded and hastily swallowed his food. “Yes. My aunt's house. She lives in Gotham. I thought that I could just live with her and go to school in Gotham and visit my parents on weekends or something.”

“Well, you're prepared.” Jason shifted over so Min could sit down with her soup.

She nodded, bringing some noodles to her mouth. “Always a good quality.”

Pulling out his phone, Jason asked, “So, where do you live?” Anthony gave him an address, and Jason grabbed a napkin from the holder, jotting down a few numbers. “It's up to you whether you stay or go, but if you need some friends, call these people. They all live nearby, they're good kids, and four of them play baseball.” He gestured to the Gotham Knights patch on Anthony's backpack.

Anthony grabbed the paper and read down the list. “I think Sylvia Summers is in my Math class.”

“So go say hi.” Min tapped the paper with a finger. “Say hi to all your classmates. Get into an argument over whether the Knights or the Sabers are better, find a common interest. The friends are there.”

“Have you found the RedKids website yet?” When Anthony shook his head, Jason reached over and wrote the website on it. “Start up a thread on there. Last I checked, most of the kids were local.”

“So,” Anthony fiddled with his chopsticks as he studied the napkin, “you don't think I should run away.”

Jason sighed and sat back. “It's up to you kid. Who knows, moving in with your aunt could be the best idea ever. Or, you'd be even lonelier because you miss your parents. But it took courage and planning to pack your bag and walk out the door. Maybe you should use some of that to make Bludhaven work for you.”

Anthony nodded. He spent the rest of the meal thinking through his options while Jason and Min talked about food ideas. Two weeks later, Marcus texted Jason a selfie of him, Sylvia and Anthony at the field kids used for baseball.

 

* * *

 

“Your name is Chaperon Coquelicot?”

The kid squirmed under Jason's flat stare. “Yeah. Totally.”

Jason sighed. “Ok, that loosely, very loosely, translates as red hood.” Though how the kid knew that coquelicot was a shade of red based on the common word for a French poppy was... actually, it was probably a quick Google search. “So what's your real name? And no bad French this time.”

He sighed. “Tumelo Thompson. Friends call me Mel.”

Was that an invitation for Jason to call him Mel, or...? “Awesome. So, what'd you call me here for? Your text was super vague.” Vague enough that Red Hood had suspected another Armani Thug trap. He'd surveilled the whole block for half an hour before he'd come down to talk.

“It's two things really. First, I wanna join the Red Kids. Not the website, I already have a username and quite a few casings,” the website used “casings” as in “bullet casings” as a point system. It was weird, kids were weird, moving on, “the real one, where they go around doing what you do.”

“Gonna stop you there kid.” Jason held up his hand. Making sure his most serious expression was on his face, he put his hand on the kids shoulder and leaned down so their faces were level. “I'm going to say this once, only once, and I want you to respect it. The 'real' Red Kids are not operating with my approval. I definitely do not want them out there, and I am doing everything I can to stop them. Do not join them. Do not let your friends join them. Ok?”

Hesitantly, the kid nodded. “Fine.” Jason wasn't convinced, at all, but he would let it go for now. But if he saw Mel with one of those leather jackets, he was going to lecture him so hard. Still, he leaned back and motioned for the kid to continue. With a huff, Mel did. “The second thing is a bit tricky and really illegal.”

Jason just raised an eyebrow and gestured at himself. He was wearing two hand guns, a sniper rifle, and he had a rocket launcher in his duffel bag. Before Mel's text, he'd been going to go blow up a warehouse full of cell phones. Harmless sounding, but the phones had small explosives in them. These were outbound, heading to Bialya, enough for ten thousand people. Dial a master number, and when the person picks up, the explosive goes off with just enough charge to blow off their head. But it was fine. The shipment wasn't leaving until tomorrow.

“Right. I forgot. Anyways, I need you to break into Bludhaven 65's evidence lockup and get a stuffed hippo that may or may not be evidence in a gruesome murder.”

“Ok, I'm going to need the story on that one. I'll do it, but I'd like to know why.”

Mel sighed. “The hippo is my neighbour's. He's six, and his mom and dad just died, and his best friend got taken just because it got one drop of blood on it. He needs Giraffe, um, that's the hippo's name, to sleep.”

A hippo named Giraffe. Cool. “Can do. I just need to make one quick stop on the way. Well, two stops. Text you when I have it.” With a smile and a wave, he pulled his helmet back on and jumped off the building.

The good news was, the cellphone warehouse was on the way to the 65th precinct. Goodbye murder phones, hello explosion. After this, he should probably donate some drug money to the firemen. Or he would, if he wasn't incredibly sure it would go to gold bathtubs instead of red trucks. The firemen were almost as corrupt as the cops, which was weird to think about. Maybe he should just buy equipment and donate that.

Hm. It just occurred to him that he used an explosion to prevent many smaller explosions. He really needed to find someone to share the irony of that with. Not the kids. With his luck, they would interpret it as bombs being on the table for all their unapproved vigilante-ing.

The 65th precinct was one of the not-terrible ones. The kind of corrupt that would let an assault charge go for the right price, but a murderer would have to pay a much higher price. Luckily, the neighbourhood was bad enough that most of the murderers here couldn't afford that price, so justice got done after a fashion.

His second stop was his safe house. Not the one in the mob building. After he hadn't shown up for a month, his landlady, a nice Italian grandmother with a quick trigger finger and a mean marinara, had gotten worried and broke down the door. Long story short, they no longer believed his cover about being a writer and it had taken him a week to track down all his favourite weapons. He had left a nice gift basket for his land lady in apology though.

No, this one was the top floor of a condemned apartment building. He'd bought out the building from the state under an alias and was having the whole thing renovated. The top was done, which wasn't at all how the contractor had wanted to do the reno, but Jason, or rather his alias Mark Lee, had insisted. At least he'd gotten a relatively honest contractor. And the lower floors were up next.

Anyways. Future plans. For now, this particular safe house had uniforms. Cop uniforms, and a bunch of real badges he'd doctored so they had his picture instead of the cops he's stolen them from. He dressed quickly and left.

Landing on the rooftop of the precinct was easy. There were cameras, sure, but they weren't set up very well. Three were pointed at the exact same spot and one was staring at the moon. Plus, they weren't covering the rooftop access door. He picked the lock and slipped in.

Red Hood stood for a moment enjoying the warmth. The cop uniform had short sleeves and wasn't very warm. Then, he made his way towards the evidence locker.

In his uniform, with his hat covering his hair and face, no one looked twice at him. It took some doing to find evidence, but luckily, most police stations followed the same general layout. Also luckily, the 65th didn't have anyone guarding the door. Sure, there was an electronic lock that was impossible to break into without a key card and access code, but with that kind of security, they may as well leave the door wide open.

Totally impossible, as long as the person breaking in didn't know about the design flaw. Which Red Hood did. So. Pulling off the side panel, he grabbed the green wire and stuck it into the card reader. There was a fizz and a small puff of smoke, and the door popped open.

With a smile, Red Hood strolled in and grabbed the log book from the wall. The murder was fairly recent, so... There! One stuffed animal, on Shelf 43a. He grabbed the hippo, small enough to fit in his pocket, and left the way he came.

Once back in his safe house, he took the hippo out and sighed. One drop of blood Mel? The hippo was covered in it from mid-belly down. With a sigh, Jason went to his bathroom and pulled out Jason's version of Alfred's homemade blood remover. It was a surprisingly necessary item in Jason's childhood. Still, it took a good half hour of scrubbing before Giraffe got back to his old, grey colour.

An hour later, Jason was swinging home, Mel and his neighbour Cahyo waving goodbye.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Min's Eatery was partially inspired by [Jason Todd: The Not-so-Outlaw](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7601896) which is very good and you should check it out.
> 
> Giraffe the Hippo was completely inspired by the wonderful Moosey the Hippo, who still graces my bedroom with her presence. Hippos are awesome, peace out!


	4. Alice in High Definition and an Aside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A job gets interrupted and some bats share some thoughts.

Sniping was a waiting game. And while he waited, he was texting a contractor. Normally, meeting with contractors was a face to face thing, but in Bludhaven, a reclusive property owner could get anything he wanted, for the right price. Of course, he had also hired overseers, people to ensure the contractor didn't do a mediocre job and pocket the profits.

His target, one Johnny Grey, wasn't a drug lord or murderer or any of his usual targets. No, he was just an animal smuggler. He smuggled cats and dogs across the border, surgically implanted with certain chemicals that, when combined, formed compounds explosive enough to take out a major shopping center.

Fortunately, Grey was incredibly suspicious of his underlings, something Red Hood had been working on for a few months. As such, no one but Grey knew the names of the buyers, or who was stuffing small animals full of volatile chemicals. The entire organization literally relied on Grey to continue breathing. Unfortunately, he was about to disappoint a whole lot of people.

But first he had to show up. There was an exchange tonight, Grey paying off a harbormaster to maybe not look too closely at the animals the next ship was bringing in, and Red Hood had gotten here a whole hour early.

He checked his watch. Ten minutes. Ten minutes to kill and the contractor hadn't texted him back yet, so he had nothing to do. Without his permission, his mind started wandering back to his confrontation with Nightwing.

Pulling out his rifle, he started prepping it. “Who does he think he is?” The action opened with a click and he took a look down the barrel to make sure nothing was in it. “Family? Yeah right.” The magazine went in and the action closed with another series of clicks. “Why can't they all just leave me alone?” He laid down on the rooftop, lining up his sights. Red Hood sighed. He was going after a stuffed animal smuggler. Dangerous stuffed animals, but still. Not much choice though; all of the worst crooks were either fled or dead. Pretty soon, he would have no job.

By the time Grey and his posse showed up, he was very much ready to shoot some people. And he did. “Screw you Grayson.” Headshot. “I hope you get scurvy.” Knee, then headshot. “Get scurvy and all your perfect little teeth can fall out.” Knee, knee, elbow, shoulder, lung. “Fucking Nightwing.”

“Momma says that's a bad word and if I say it, she'll wash out my mouth.”

Immediately, Jason's rifle pointed straight up into the air. He rolled into a sitting position, staring at the little girl behind him. “And she's absolutely right. Swearing is a bad habit. Use big words, so whoever you're mad at feels like an idiot.”

She was about six, and wearing bunny pajamas. “Really? That works?”

“Yup.” Jason walked away from the edge of the roof and started putting his rifle away. She turned so she could keep facing him and, thankfully, not facing the horror show on the docks. “Plus stuff like malodorous dunce is just fun to say. What's your name?” He pulled off his helmet and started stashing his rifle.

“Alice. And Tammy said you ask if we need help, but I don't. I just wanted to say hi.” She rocked back on her heels and smiled at him, the tiny kid's purse at her side smacking into her thigh.

Jason smiled. Magazine out and away, eject round from chamber. “Hi Alice. Come on, let's get you home, before the angry men down there call for help.”

Alice nodded, holding her arms out in the universal sign for “carry me”. So Jason swung her up onto his shoulders, making sure the rifle slung across his back wasn't poking her, and handed her his helmet to carry.

She lived in an apartment building across the street, one he had considered for sniping on top of, but decided the pigeon wire would get in the way. And also really hurt. He couldn't really swing to her fire escape, not without risking dropping her, so he started climbing down his fire escape. “So Alice, how are you doing in school?”

“Not great. They keep talking about boring stuff like shapes and numbers and I just want to play outside.” She was using his head to balance his helmet on, and she kept turning it. “The thoranist said that I might have attention defo... defin...” She huffed in frustration.

“The therapist said you might have attention deficit disorder?” Jason guessed.

“No, there was another word in there.”

Ah. “Hyperactivity. It might be easier if you just call it ADHD.”

She gave out another frustrated huff. “Why couldn't he just call it that then? That's a lot easier to remember. And hey, what's that thing you said earlier mean?”

“Malodorous dunce? It means stinky dumdum. If you want, I can write it down for you.” They'd reached the bottom of the fire escape, Jason grabbing both of her ankles with one hand so he could climb the ladder. She grabbed his hair so she could hold on better.

Once they were at the bottom and starting across the street, she released his hair and went back to playing with his helmet. “Yes please. I wanna call the therapin that next time I have to go see him. I think he's right because a lot of stuff he said ADHD people have is stuff I have, but he's also a stinky dumdum and I don't like him.”

Jason laughed. “Yeah, people who are right all the time are like that.” Pulling out his grapple, he used it to grab the ladder to her fire escape and bring it down. “Hold on again Alice.”

She did, and they scaled the ladder. “Yeah. And! He said I need pills to focus in class, but then I saw Mom and Dad looking at the bills and being sad. So I don't think we can afford it.” There was a squeaking noise coming from somewhere.

Jason hummed, thinking. “Maybe... ask your Mom or Dad if they'll quiz you when you get home from school. But while they do, play a game. Catch or something. That might help it stick better.” He'd try and see what he could do about their money troubles. Jason had a thing about drugs, understandably, but something like Ritalin could help Alice focus in school, so he'd help out. After he made sure she did have ADHD and it wasn't just some crack shrink who diagnosed every kid because they had energy.

Alice laughed, swinging her legs as much as she was able with him holding her ankles. “That's a good idea Red! Thanks! Oh, and this is my window! Um. I decorated your helmet.”

Confused, Jason set her on the fire escape in front of him and yup. It was decorated alright. There was an empty sticker sheet in her hand, probably one she had kept in her purse. The stickers, a variety of star, butterfly, car, dinosaur and heart ones, were all over his helmet, as well as some drawings of dogs and cats in sharpie. Also, a drawing of Jason's helmet. On his helmet.

“I love it!” Jason said honestly. “But I don't want it to get damaged when I'm working.”

Alice nodded solemnly. “Yeah. This is art and Daddy says that art should be protected.”

“Protected but seen.” Jason added, and she nodded again. “I'll put a picture of it on the website. Sounds good?”

“Yes! Goodnight Red!” He wrote malodorous dunce on the back of her sticker sheet, as well as a few other insults. Then, she climbed in through her window and bounced into her bed. Jason smiled, put on his newly decorated helmet and grappled away.

On the RedKids website, the user Red added another photo to his profile page, for a grand total of two. The first one, uploaded a month ago, was of a cast, covered in names and drawings in a rainbow of permanent marker ink, leaving almost none of the original white visible. The comments on it were of kids claiming them as their own. The second, and newest, was of a shelf, and on the shelf was a interestingly decorated Red Hood helmet.

 

* * *

 

When he realized he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, Dick stopped, firmly pressing his teeth together. It was a really bad habit, one that could lead to him biting the inside of his mouth really badly, especially if he was in a fight, but it's one he had never been able to shake. Luckily, it only came up if he was particularly conflicted.

Because Jason was a murderer. And that wasn't ever something he could excuse. But was Dick any better? He had let Tarantula shoot Blockbuster. Then again, not stopping someone from shooting someone else was a lot different than the murder and torture and general bloodbath that Jason was causing in Bludhaven. Wasn't it?

No, it was. And besides, comparing their situations wasn't fair or right. Dick had been emotionally devastated for weeks, _months_ , after the incident. Dick had seen Jason, looked into his eyes, and Jason didn't regret a thing. The kid he had seen as a little brother had died and come back a sociopath.

Maybe Jason was right about one thing though. Dick hadn't seen him as a brother, not when he'd been alive. It had only been regret and melancholy that had him remembering it differently. And guilt. Which was the entire reason he was trying so hard with Tim. Not just because Tim was a great kid, but also because if something happened, he didn't want the survivor to be left with no good memories. Which was a morbid way of thinking, but kind of necessary in his line of work.

Jason had threatened Tim. Tim was safe for now (as safe as one could be on a deep space mission with his team) but as soon as he got back, he'd have to be told that Jason was dangerous. Because he didn't know. Because he'd told Dick that Jason was alive and then blasted off in a rocket with the Teen Titans. Because he had been so excited to meet Jason he would have skipped the mission if it wasn't galaxy-saving.

And Dick was chewing his cheek again.

“Again.” Bruce said in that tone he used when he doesn't want to demand but he's also not asking.

Dick's lip curled into a snarl. He was getting tired of this. “We go over it every time I visit Bruce. Do we have to do it again?” Bruce just leveled a flat stare at him. “Fine! Jason looked older. About the age he would be if he had never died. Massive. Almost as tall as you, with muscles to match.” More muscles than Dick anyways. But Dick tried to keep on the lean side so he could continue his acrobatics. “His gear was as good as it could be without access to our resources. The grapple gun was definitely a few generations down, so he probably built it himself from memory. Didn't see his eyes, he had a domino under his helmet. And he'd dyed some of his hair green and blue and pink.” An odd choice, not one the Jason he'd know would ever make.

Bruce took all that in, changing his report by a word or two. “Anything else?”

“What does it matter?” Dick stood abruptly, his chair crashing to the ground behind him. “Jason is dead, and a serial killer came back in his place! We should just go and take him down before he hurts anyone else!”

Standing slower than Dick had, Bruce saved and minimized the file he had on Jason, revealing the rather large graph in the window behind it. For all they two of them had been working around the clock to figure out a way to arrest him without him spilling their identities, it was a pitifully small file. And while neither of them had ever though their identities would come under threat from someone in the family, they also hadn't thought someone in the family would become what Jason has become. “It matters Dick. You should know more than anyone, the more information you have on someone, the more power you hold over them.”

Dick flinched. Either that was a reminder of his lessons of when he was a Robin, or it was a reminder of what had happened when Blockbuster found out who Nightwing was. “And the more time we sit down here, the more people die. He killed six people in the past two days Bruce. And tomorrow, it could be a dozen, or a hundred, and you would be down here twiddling your thumbs and trying to get information that doesn't exist!” Better to leave now then to let them continue pushing each other's buttons. Better to leave now than after one of them punched the other. With a sharp wave, Dick stalked over to his motorcycle and roared out of the Cave.

Bruce watched Dick leave sadly. He wished things were different. He wanted to be able to have a conversation with his son without one of them stomping off mad or coming to blows. But they had made up before and they would again.

He sat down again and looked at the graph on the screen. Either Dick didn't see it or he chose to ignore it. It was a murders in Bludhaven versus time graph, and if a criminal psychologist saw it they would swoon.

The first few months of data had been gone over so many time that Bruce could probably draw it free hand from memory. It's while Jason is in hospital that things get interesting. A week of nothing, then the murders spike. Overlaid with a violent crime graph and a drug related crime graph, and it's easy to see that the crooks of Bludhaven are running wild. The numbers rival the ones from the first month, the ones Bruce suspected were Jason's alone. But where Jason had tapered off, become much less violent in the months following handing out his cell phone number, the criminals of Bludhaven kept the numbers high.

The night Dick had gone to Bludhaven there was one murder that was confirmed to be Jason's. After that there was chaos. Murder went up drastically, violent and drug related crimes plummeted. Reports naming Red Hood as the shooter skyrocketed, more than there ever had before. But within two weeks, Jason settled down and went back to his pre-hospital numbers. A jump every week or so when he took out a gang, but he didn't kill every member.

Bruce sat with his elbows on the console, fingers laced under his nose, staring at the data. Specifically, the spike. Was Red Hood making up for time lost, killing the criminals who had rampaged in his absence? Or was it because Dick had come to Bludhaven? How stable was Jason? Most non-specific methods of resurrection messed with the mind. Magic either left the resurrected a zombie, slave to the whims of the resurrector, or neglected to revive the soul, leaving the resurrected a fraction of a person.

And he couldn't really think of another way for Jason to have been revived, not without triggering the sensors on his coffin. The only reason they didn't go off was because Jason came back to life inside his coffin and dug his way out. Any sort of tech would have had to have been inside the coffin, either added later (not possible without tripping the alarm) or in the coffin before he was buried. The Lazarus Pit was a possibility, but again, one would need to get Jason out of the coffin to expose him to one. And all other methods of resurrection were specific to the person. Kryptonian birthing matrix, Spectre, escaping Tartarus, caught in an eternal cycle of birth and rebirth, et cetera.

With a huff that was as close as he got to a sigh, Bruce quickly checked the incoming reports from Bludhaven. One murder and sixteen assaults, five of which were critical, were attributed to Red Hood. The crime rate in Bludhaven had once again plummeted to where it had been before Superman decided to take matters into his own hands.

Dick was right in some things. This could never be excused. But Bruce would also never give up on the idea that he could someday bring Jason home. Under twenty-four hour watch and severe restrictions on his activities until he could be trusted again, but home.

For now though, Bruce pulled on his cowl and headed for the car. There was crime in Gotham that had to be stopped, and while Batman would never stoop to Jason's methods, he would also never give up on Gotham either.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would just like to mention that "An Aside" is the chapter title for any chapter not involving Jason and a child. Because chances are, the adults aren't going to make accounts on the RedKids website.
> 
> ALSO! Timeline, for anyone who cares. After Steph came back from the "dead", after Cass came back from being "evil" and before Bruce "dies". This was about ten-ish issues in the comics, but it will be as long as I want it to be here.


	5. Run In 2 and Invading Eggplant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash goes in for a follow up and Jason saves someone who probably didn't need to be saved.

More than a thousand miles from Bludhaven, Wally West was doing dishes. Linda was out doing a report on the new rail system, Jai and Iris were at a friend's and Wally had the day off. So he put on the news for background noise and made supper, a nice lasagna that was currently in the oven. (Well, three lasagnas.) He mostly focused on getting cheese off of the grater, only catching snippets from the TV.

“...and the mayor had this to say...”

“...a minor fire that could have been...”

“...still standing thanks to the Flash...”

“...other news, it appears Red Hood is back in...”

Wait, what was that?

“...more than two months of silence, criminals have started dying in Bludhaven, in methods matching some of Red Hood's previous victims. Red Hood, for our viewers who are unaware, is a vigilante of the worst kind, killing criminals instead of leaving them to the judicial system. It is unlikely he will leave Bludhaven, but it has happened once before.”

“Kind of makes you grateful to the Flash, doesn't it Karen?”

“It sure does Al.” The segment ended, but Wally had already left the kitchen.

He was halfway across the country when his phone alarm went off. Making a quick dash home, he pulled the lasagna out, left a note for Linda and the kids, then ran out again. Then ran back in to grab his costume.

Wally ran around Bludhaven for an hour before stopping to rest. He'd already refueled several times, at that hot dog vendor Iris had gone to last time she'd been here, but now his legs were tired. So he sat on a bench for a few minutes. He was just about to get up and start his search when his phone rang.

Iris's exuberant voice greeted him when he picked up the phone. “ _Hi Dad! I saw your note and I think I can help._ ”

“You're not allowed to run to Bludhaven.” She had tried, several times while Red Hood had been missing, but he'd always caught up to her. Wally knew his daughter was worried, but Bludhaven was dangerous and he didn't want her anywhere near it.

“ _I wasn't going to,_ ” she said in that tone of voice she used that said she had totally been thinking about it, _“but I'm in contact with a bunch of kids in Bludhaven, and they keep track of Red Hood. But first you need to tell me what you need to find him for._ ”

Wally shifted, uncomfortable. “I'm not sure. I haven't really thought about it.”

“ _Are you going to punch him or throw him in jail or leave him tied up for the cops?_ ”

“No!” As bad a criminal as Red Hood was, he had saved Wally's daughter. And while he would take anyone else in regardless, there was something about Red Hood that made Wally feel like it wouldn't be worth it. “No, sweetie, I just wanted to talk to him.”

“ _Mmkay. I trust you. But if the other kids start freaking out, I'm not talking to you for a month._ ” Wally would take that threat seriously if he thought she could actually go through with it. There was a minute or two of silence, followed by keys clicking, followed by more silence.“ _The kids say he was last seen heading west on Blue Line North. Probably heading for the rail yards. He's going by rooftop, like the Bats do, so you'll find him up there._ ”

“Thanks Irey.” Wally smiled as his daughter signed off. He'd bring home some chili dogs for her.

He zipped off, running up a wall. At his speed, jumping the gaps between buildings was no sweat, and the roofs were almost as good a track as the street. He just had to be careful not to make too much noise. It wouldn't be good to startle the people trying to sleep in the rooms below him.

Wally had just passed the Littleneck bridge when he saw the distinctive red helmet, attached to the much less distinctive jacket and jeans. Red Hood was headed for the edge of a roof, jumping with a familiar flip and landing in a roll, using that momentum to get back on his feet and keep running. “Like the Bats do” indeed. Wally hadn't seen anyone outside the Gotham heroes who could do that so smoothly.

Racing ahead, he slowed down so Red Hood could see his approach. And see he did. He landed on another roof and came up in a defensive position, low to the ground with one fist raised in front of him, the other dropping to his thigh holster. Not touching it, Wally was pleased to see, but close enough to have the gun out in half a second if needed.

Not that it would ever come out fast enough if things got dicey. But Wally was really hoping that they wouldn't.

"I come in peace.” Coming to a stop with his hands raised and open was the best he could do to diffuse the tensions right now. “Seriously, I promise, I'm not here to take you to jail or anything. I just wanted to thank you.”

Red Hood twitched in surprise, but it was minuscule, controlled. “Thank me?” His voice was more than a little surprised.

“Yeah, for helping my daughter out that one time.” By this point, Wally was four steps away and Red Hood had nearly relaxed out of his crouch. Not fully relaxed; he would still be able to react if Wally pulled anything. “You bolted before I could thank you properly, so I'm doing it now.”

He let out a snort, which sounded weird through the voice modulation on his helmet. “What, and me being a mass murderer doesn't bother you?”

Wally crossed his arms, thinking. “It does, and next time I see you, I'll definitely take you in. But I promised my daughter I wouldn't, so today I'm not going to. I mean, I wasn't going to anyways. I really did track you down so I could thank you.”

“Huh.” With a quick shift in balance, Red Hood moved into a stance that looked completely at ease, but one Wally knew would still allow him to react fairly quickly. “Well, you're welcome. Gotta say though, you're the first person over the age of eighteen to thank me for anything in the past few years and it's really weirding me out.”

With a laugh, Wally leaned on an air conditioner. “Yeah, Iris said you didn't have many adult fans, even in Bludhaven.” Wally had been following that story, kind of. The months that Red Hood was gone – probably in the hospital – following Superman's uncharacteristic beat down, the violent crime rate had gone way up. The theories went flying, the crime rate was only up because Red Hood brought more trouble with him, like most capes did, that crooks were taking advantage of his absence to rule the Bludhaven underground, that the gang war that had started in the Projects had only happened because Red Hood killed the top brass in both and blamed the other. Which... that last one was probably true.

Red Hood snorted again. “Nope. They liked me for about a day and a half, and only to use as fodder against your Justice League.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. That particular media fallout had been brutal. “Sorry about that by the way. The media ripped you apart putting us back in the public's good books.”

“No problem. Not the first time I've been tossed under the bus. Oh, and by the way, you told me your daughter's name a minute ago. Isn't that supposed to be secret?”

Wally laughed again. “It would be, if she hadn't told you already. If I hadn't told you mine over the phone. I suppose I owe you another thank you.” For not spreading it around.

A careless shrug from Red Hood. “No reason to give you hero types more reason to come after me.” He didn't mention that if he did get arrested, he could use the information to bargain for his release, or get special treatment from other inmates. And if he did get arrested, but still kept quiet, jail would be hell on Earth. Every inmate would be gunning for that information. Wally didn't know what Red Hood would choose, but he would have to make sure the League had precautions put in place for both.

Because someday, someone would arrest Red Hood. Some hero would decide enough was enough and take him out. Or fail, bringing more heroes to Bludhaven to avenge his or her defeat. Honestly, Wally was surprised it hadn't happened already. “True. You're probably walking on thin enough ice in the community as is.”

Red Hood nodded, then gestured in the direction he'd been heading before Wally had stopped him. “Nice chat and all, but I was headed for something.” Wally gave him a look, which Red Hood noticed, of course. “Nothing lethal, probably, so don't get your tights in a bunch. There's a bunch of people in a warehouse planning on robbing a charity, so I'm going to break all their arms.”

Wally grumbled. “That's not much better.”

“Better than the charity getting robbed. The money from that goes to helping women in abusive situations, and it's one of the few clean ones in the city.” Red Hood shoved one hand in his pocket, the other lifting to wave goodbye. “If you're not going to stop me now, better take off. Some media dog might paint you as complicit otherwise.”

It was tempting, to run up and stop him. But he had promised Iris. And Red Hood said he wasn't going to kill anyone. Still. “Maybe only break one arm each?”

“We'll see Flash. Run along home before your daughter comes looking for you.”

Two days later, when Wally caved and looked up the arrest report, he spit out his coffee. Half of the potential charity robbers had both of their arms broken. The other half, one each.

 

* * *

 

Jason's night had been going pretty good. Right up until he saw some kid try and stop a mugging. With any other age group, he would be applauding the citizen for taking initiative. Good for them! But for whatever reason, the kids in this city thought it was a good idea to copy him and try and bust drug rings. He really needed to have a talk with them about that. And if that talk made him a hypocrite, well, at least he wasn’t a hypocrite with a bunch of dead kids on his hands.

For now though, he needed to stop this blonde kid from getting stabbed. Again.

He landed on one of the thugs, eliciting a startled “Shit! Fuck!” from the blonde girl. The man who had been getting mugged was busy cowering in the corner and probably couldn't be startled if Jason tried. He had to admit though, the girl was pretty good. Even with a deep cut in her shoulder, she was taking out thugs like it was her job. But her fighting style was more city dojo and less Bat-trained, so she was probably just some kid.

Finally, all of the thugs were lying on the floor groaning. The mugging victim had scarpered a while ago, so it was just the two of them standing. Jason was looking through his belt, and the girl was holding her arm and looking awkward. “Well. This was fun. I should probably g-”

“Crap.” Jason looked up at the girl. “Sorry, I forgot to restock my first aid stuff.” He crossed his arms as he thought. He'd been planning on taking the girl to a well lit rooftop somewhere, but without his first aid, that was not an option.

“No, really, I could just go.” She was from Gotham. Lower Gotham, judging from her accent. It was nice to hear again.

Jason frowned and walked a bit closer. “You have a hole in your shoulder. And trust me, those bleed a lot.” He sighed. “Look, if I take you back to my place to patch you up, are you going to rat me out to the cops? Because I just moved in and I like it.”

She snorted. “Pft. No. But really, I'm fine.”

Jason pulled off his helmet so she could see him raise an eyebrow at her. “The nearest hospital is a half hour walk, and trust me, you'll bleed out long before then. It's a five minute swing to my place, so come on. I promise I won't assault you if that's what you're worried about.” It was a legitimate concern, and if he thought that was the problem, he would just go to his apartment and bring stuff back. But she hadn't reacted when he'd moved closer, so he'd rather not risk her bleeding out while she waited. Still, he held out his hand and waited for her to take it. When she did, he pulled her in close and told her to hold on tight.

Five minutes later, they were at his apartment. He dropped her on the sofa – leather and black, so blood wiped off and didn't stain – then went to the fridge for juice. “Drink that, you'll need the fluids,” he said as he grabbed his medkit from behind the couch. Not a good idea to keep it too far away, especially when he couldn't find the energy to walk to the bathroom and back. The girl had already peeled off her coat. Luckily, she was wearing a tank top, so she didn't have to take off her shirt as well.

“So,” he ventured as he injected some pain killers into her arm, “what's your name?”

She seemed a little reluctant to answer, but eventually she said, “Steph. Stephanie Brown. What's yours?” Something about the name sounded familiar.

Jason just smiled, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the antiseptic. “Red Hood. But you can call me Red.”

Steph sat quietly for a few minutes while Jason worked. And while he worked, he started thinking up all the fun ways he was going to utterly destroy whoever had hurt this girl. She had almost as many scars as he did, and it looked like they were the result of torture. Recent too. Not much more than a year, year and a half.

“Is it true you were the second Robin?” She asked finally, breaking into his plans. “I mean, it's cool if you don't want to tell me.”

Jason tugged the last stitch through and tied off. “Yup. In the flesh.” He grabbed some bandages from his kit and started wrapping her injury.

“Hm.” She waited while he secured the bandages, using the excess as a sling. “I'm not here for long, just visiting for the weekend. Not really how I planned to spend it.”

“Yeah, getting stabbed will normally knock out your weekend plans.” He sat back, pulling her coat back on and buttoning it over top of her arm. “That's what happens when you try and fight crime without being ready though. I really need to sit you kids down and have a chat with you.” Jason sighed. The Red Kids, the ones who tried to copy him, do what he did, normally scattered when he jumped down. They knew he didn't want them fighting, but they refused to listen to his reasons why. “Oh well. Problems for another day. Do you have my number?”

She shook her head, so he grabbed a card from his belt and handed it over. Then she grabbed a pencil and his note paper from the coffee table and wrote her number down on it as well. “So you can call me. And make sure you do call me. I'm from Gotham, I know how you people work.”

Jason snorted. “Sure thing.” If it was an emergency.

Steph just rolled her eyes and stood up, pulling on her coat as she did. “Are you going to take me back down, or do I have to take the stairs?”

“No, the stairs are being renovated. I'll take you down.”

He put her down on the ground and then followed from the rooftops to make sure she got home safe. And then he went home and plugged in his flash drive for the first time since the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder: Please do not request any sort of Jason and Bat-people stuff. That's all planned. Jason and kids only.
> 
> Also, as a new side note, please don't request anything where Jason would have to go into daylight in public. I've had to turn a few people down because of this and it kills me. The Red Hood can't do these things because then the police would show up and ruin the whole event. Yes, he helps kids out so much, but he's still the most wanted criminal in Bludhaven. Maybe the state. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


	6. Takeout Fakeout and Other Ways. Plus Extra.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason saves a girl from a creepy boyfriend. A Red Kid takes to the streets and pays for it. Chat Logs.

I t was well past midnight when Min dropped a bowl of soup in front of Jason. Really, he was lucky he had called ahead or he would have had to go hungry. Or stop by Food Cart Guy's stall. (He did know Food Cart Guy's name, but the man preferred to remain anonymous, so Jason wouldn't refer to him as anything else.) Or cook for himself, but he really didn't feel like being in his apartment right now. It felt... tainted.

“So,” Min asked, sitting across from him, dipping her egg roll in some fish sauce, “you're thinking of skipping town, huh?”

Jason scowled and slurped his noodles a bit. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Well, I haven't heard what terrible reasons you've come up with.” Despite the fish sauce, the egg roll still crunched when she bit into it.

“Nice vote of confidence Min.” He took his time with the next mouthful, using the chopsticks to put noodles into his bowl, followed by meat and a few bean sprouts. Yeah, Min's eatery was mostly Chinese food, but her pho was to die for. “So you know how my family is a pack of a-holes who can go jump off a roof for all I care?” Being around so many kids had tempered Jason's language a bit. Even though most of them had worse mouths than he did.

She nodded, eating another egg roll. “You may have mentioned them a few dozen times.” Which was true enough. Jason visited most Thursdays, which was Min's late night. After she asked him about the rumor of him being the first Robin, he'd told her (complained) about Batman and Nightwing. “Did they finally pick up on you being here?”

“Eh, they've known for months.” He took another mouthful of soup. “But yesterday, I saw a girl fighting off a group of muggers. She got stabbed, so I took her back to my place for medical attention. Turns out, she's one of them too. Spoiler.”

“You've never talked about,” complained about, was the unspoken implication, “her before.”

“Mm.” This soup was so good. “I met her for the first time last night. Only reason I know is because she's mentioned on a flash drive I stole from the Batcave.”

Min laughed, then, “Wait, is there actually a Batcave?” At Jason's nod, she snorted. “Batman is, as my kids would say, such a nerd.”

Jason choked on his soup a bit at that.

“So, she came to your house. What's the big fire?” She'd finished her egg rolls, and had moved on to dumplings.

Jason hoped that Min would have some leftover dumplings next time because those smelled like heaven. “Because she's a Bat and by virtue of association, I hate her guts.”

“So you don't know her.” She chuckled a bit. “Hood, you're a great kid, and I'll forever be grateful to you for saving David's ungrateful ass. But if my only knowledge of you was your reputation, you would not be allowed within ten blocks of my restaurant.”

Jason scowled into his soup. “So you're saying I should give her a chance. Even though she's probably just going to spy on me and tell Batman where I live. Or give me a lecture about stuff I already know. Or arrest me. And I'm not really in the mood for any of that crap.”

Min reached over and smacked him on the arm. “I'm saying, as cliche as this will sound, don't judge a book by its cover. Also, I know for a fact that you won't leave. The collective youth of Bludhaven have you wrapped around their little fingers.”

“What? They do not!” Jason's phone decided to light up with a text as he said that. Without missing a beat, he checked.

“Of course they don't.” Min smiled smugly as she stood up from her seat.

Jason leveled her a flat look and went back to reading his text. “ _ Hey Red, _ ” it read, “ _ my name is Madison. I'm at the fourth street karaoke bar, and my boyfriend is getting drunk and making comments. Can you come and get me please? _ ”

“I've gotta go Min. Sorry.”

Min was just finishing pouring his soup into a takeout container. He hadn't even noticed her take it. “Around their fingers Hood. Now,” she put the container into a plastic bag and tied it shut, “there's also some dumplings in here. Not for you!” Jason's excited grin fell. “They're for whoever is tugging your strings today.”

“Thanks Min. And I am not wrapped around their fingers, I can leave whenever I want!” He grabbed the bag and jumped out the window, trying to avoid her reply.

Still, the, “You keep telling yourself that, kid,” followed him down to the street.

When he got close to the karaoke bar, he shut down his engine and listened. Besides the loud music and off-key singing coming from the bar, and the drunk guy out the front door singing a completely different song, he could hear something in the back alley. “Andy, I said no!”

“Come on Mads, you know you don't mean that.” The voice was male, teenaged, and interspersed with pants. Someone was getting way too excited. “I've seen the signals.”

“There's only one and it says get off!” Down the alley, a girl was trying to push her linebacker of a boyfriend away, without much success.

Before Andy knew what was happening, Red Hood had appeared out of nowhere, grabbed him by the collar and ripped him up and away from Madison. Completely ignoring the guy dangling from his hand, Jason turned to the girl. “Madison?” She nodded. Her skirt was up around her hips. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. He didn't hurt you, did he?”

“No, um. He didn't. And I'm just glad you came at all.” Nervously, she tugged at her clothes, trying to get them back in order.

Jason smiled, even though she wouldn't be able to see it with his helmet still on. “It was no trouble, I promise.” Finally turning to look at Andy, he shook him until he stopped kicking and swearing. “I'm going to ask you a few questions, and then ask Madison one. Depending on how you answer, you'll walk home, hobble home, or wake up in the hospital. Understand?”

Andy didn't reply, so Red Hood shook him again. “I understand,” Andy bit off. “I just don't see how it's any of your business!”

“I'm making it my business. So, question 1: do you have ears that can hear?”

“What?”

“Ears! You got 'em? And they work?” At Andy's confused nod, Red Hood shook him again. “So why didn't you hear Madison here telling you to stop?”

Andy snorted. “She wants me, even if she won't admit it. Besides, she's my girlfriend, so you can butt out Tin Head!”

Another shake. “I would, but none of what you just said made any sense whatsoever. She said no. Which leads me into question 2. What is it called when you have sex with someone without their consent?”

“She's my girlfriend, and we've been together for three years!” Andy was starting to sound desperate. Good.

“Doesn't matter. Rape is rape. Question 3. What happens to rapists when I get a hold of them? I'm sure you've heard. I've been on the news a lot lately.”

“But...” Andy finally lost the righteous anger he had in his voice. He looked scared. “But she's my girlfriend...”

Red Hood sighed. “Yes, she is. Although whether she will want to be after this is entirely up to her. But as we've already established, unconsented sex, no matter the relationship of the victim to the perpetrator, or the events leading up to it, is rape. If she says no, and you ignore her, you're a rapist.

Andy was actively shaking now. He'd keep. Turning back to Madison, he asked softly, “Question 4 is for you Madison. What do you think?”

She was still trying to pull her skirt down, even though it was as low as the fabric would allow. “What?”

“Are you ok?”

She nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Like I said, he didn't actually... he didn't get far enough to... um...”

“Yeah. But it's still up to you. Sexual assault is a crime as well. I won't kill him, I won't put that on your conscience, but I can make sure he can never do something like this again.” Andy squeaked, trying to pull his legs up. “Or I can shoot him somewhere painful. Or I can let him off with a warning. Or you can let me choose. It's up to you.”

She considered it. She honestly did, and with every second that passed, Andy's trembles became greater. “Just let him go. He's an ass, and we are  _ so _ over, but I think he's learned his lesson.”

Red Hood dropped Andy immediately, but didn't let him run off yet. “Maybe. But to make sure you have it memorized, you're meeting me here next Friday, nine o'clock, and I'll teach you your manners. And if I hear that you've done anything like this again, you'll regret it. Go.”

And Andy did, stumbling down the alley like his life depended on it.

Madison looked a little freaked out, so Jason pulled off his helmet and gestured to a bench across the street. She took the hint, sitting down on one end. After Jason grabbed the food from his bike, he sat at the other, putting his helmet and the food between them. “There's some dumplings in here. Give them a try, seriously.” Jason grabbed his soup and the spoon that Min had packed and fell to. Mmm, it was still warm.

Madison took the other container and set it in her lap, but didn't open it. “If... if you hadn't been there...”

“I was. Trust me, it's better not to dwell on what ifs.”

“But if you hadn't been. If I hadn't sent the text.” She was insistent, so Jason sighed and put his soup down.

“Then Andy would have kept going. Maybe someone else would have noticed and stopped him, maybe not. After that, it would be up to you whether to press charges. And regardless of if you had or not, if I heard about it, he wouldn't get any mercy from me.”

Fiddling with the lid of the box, Madison absorbed this. Then she said in a small voice, “We've been together for three years.”

“Then he should have given you the respect you deserve and listened when you said no. I know you probably get this a lot, but you really do have lots of time to find someone else. Someone who will wait until you're ready.”

Madison smiled a bit. It was shaky, and small, but it was genuine. She opened the box and took a bite of dumpling. “Oh my God these are heaven!”

Jason looked at them sidelong. “Can I-”

“Not on your life!”

* * *

 

 

Tony was a Red Kid, and he was proud of that. Every night (well, every night he didn't have school the next day), he would put on a leather jacket he got from the thrift store and a red ball cap and go out and do what he could for the city. Red Hood had chased out nearly all of the major drug trade and almost no one dared to kill or rape anyone anymore. But there was still other stuff that needed to be done.

Right now, he and a bunch of the others were stopping a mugging. The lady had already run off, but the four guys who had tried to steal her purse needed to learn what happened to criminals in Bludhaven.

Um. Not that the crooks were going to die. Because Red Hood only killed rapists and murderers and people who sold drugs to kids. But they would do their best to beat the crap out of these guys.

And they did. They did do their best. Ten minutes later, three of the guys were rolling around on the ground, bleeding and groaning in pain.

And Tony. Tony was too.

The other Red Kids hadn't seen him. They were busy chasing after the last guy who had run off. The same guy who had been shooting behind him wildly and had gotten Tony in the side. Lucky shot. Unlucky for Tony himself, he supposed.

There was an unspoken agreement among the Red Kids who ran out at night. Never call Red. He didn't approve, said it was too dangerous. Tony thought it was a bit hypocritical. Red had been doing this since he was twelve, if what the kids online said was right. Who was he to say they couldn't go out and do some good?

At this second, Tony thought maybe Red had a point. The bullet in his gut burned, and chills wracked his body from where it was pressed against the cold concrete. It took four tries to get his phone out of his pocket, dropping twice as he brought it up so he could see the screen. Red was listed in his phone as “Mark”, for the simple reason that he didn't know any other Marks and he couldn't exactly put “Red Hood” in.

Maybe his luck was turning. Red picked up on the first ring. “ _ Red Hood furniture. Strong and lasting, until you need to break a chair over someone's head. How can I help? _ ”

“The alley... behind the pet store on Fourth.... hurry.” Halfway through his sentence, his fingers lost their strength and he dropped the phone onto his chest. He didn't hear Red's reply. He closed his eyes.

And opened them when something pressed into his wound,  _ hard _ . He missed a bunch of what Red said, because it was Red. “-hell kid, this is why I don't want you out here. Can you hold this?” Tony's wrist was grabbed and his hand placed over a piece of cloth, already soaking through. He wasn't able to put the same pressure Red had, but it seemed like it was enough. Red nodded in approval and started rummaging through his belt. “You are so fucking lucky that didn't hit anything vital.”

Tony didn't really feel lucky. A syringe came out and Red ripped the cap off with his teeth. “Painkiller. This'll still hurt though.” Good painkiller. The throbbing burn in Tony's side dulled, until it just pulsed a bit. Next, he pulled a packet from his belt, tearing it open and pulling out a needle and thread. Moving Tony's wrist and shirt out of the way, he got to work, bathing the area in disinfectant.

“Don't you... have to...” Tony couldn't finish the sentence.

But Red seemed to know what he wanted to say. “Nope. Contrary to what the media tells you, pulling out the bullet only does more damage. Unless it's threatening your life or health, it stays in.” A few more passes with the needle that felt more like tugging and less like a needle was stabbing him repeatedly and Red was done. He tied off and clipped the thread. As he was taping gauze over the stitches, Tony drifted off again.

He woke up the next day in the hospital. Apparently, a nurse had found him outside when she'd gone out for a smoke break. The doctor said that his stitches had been good enough that he felt confident leaving them as is, although they had given him some antibiotics to stave off infection. Tony would be well enough to be released tomorrow, as long as he took it easy.

Which was fine. He could keep off the streets until his bullet hole closed up. But when he thought about pulling on his jacket and hat again, he got queasy.

Six hours later, when he woke up from a nap, a vase of flowers and a large envelope were sitting on his table. Tony turned the envelope over, curious. Inside was brochure after brochure. Volunteer at the animal hospital, at the orphanage, at the soup kitchen. Charities that provide yarn if someone makes them into hats, scarves, blankets for donation. Written on top of a child mentoring organization was a quick message in messy handwriting.  _ Other ways to help make the city better _ .

Tony nodded. Smiled. “You got it Red.”

* * *

Rolling_Thunder: Anyone online tonight?

SeventeenOranges: you know it. sup?

Rolling_Thunder: Not much. Just checking double checking a code compile Im doing. You?

SeventeenOranges: i feel that. i'm making sure my equipment is still good. dad's taking me bird watching in the country tomorrow.

Rolling_Thunder: Havent you been using it to spy on your resident red-crowned black bird? Im sure its perfect.

SeventeenOranges: true that. dunno, i just feel like i've seen all i will from him. Red jumps off building, Red shoots a dozen crooks in the skull, Red eats a hot dog. love the guy, but i need to see something new soon or i'll go nuts. hence the bird watching trip.

Rolling_Thunder: Well, you didnt hear it from me but

Rolling_Thunder: theres a few rumors in Gotham that something is going to happen.

Rolling_Thunder: Dont know what, but it seems promising.

SeventeenOranges: WHAT?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! oh my god do you know when?!

SeventeenOranges: not tomorrow?!!

Rolling_Thunder: A few weeks. Youll definitely be back from bird watching before then.

SeventeenOranges: oh thank you god.

Rolling_Thunder: Worry not my friend.

SeventeenOranges: phew. thanks for the info Rolling.

Rolling_Thunder: No problem.

SeventeenOranges: whoops, gotta run.

SeventeenOranges: dad wants me in bed so we can get an early start. goodnight~

Rolling_Thunder: Makes sense.

Rolling_Thunder: Night!

_ SeventeenOranges has logged off. _

_ Rolling_Thunder has logged off. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for being patient with me for this chapter. My beta is in school and doesn't always have time to edit.
> 
> There's going to be a few of these chat logs ones by the way. If anyone has any ideas for things the kids can talk about, let me know, and I'll add it in.
> 
> Read and enjoy!


	7. Pawned Promises, Second Chances, and an Aside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some kids are too scared to visit their local pawn shop alone. Jason sees someone in familiar circumstances. Barbara and Steph have a talk.

Mary's little brother pushed her forward, making sure to stay hidden behind her back. She stared up at the man in the helmet, but couldn't say anything until he took it off and smiled. “Mr. Red? Can we ask you a favour?”

Red Hood knelt down, so he wasn't so tall and scary looking. “Course you can. Anything.” And he kept smiling, but not a fake smile like Aunt Ruth, who was mean when Daddy left for work, a real smile. The ones that Mum used to have before she got sick, like Daddy, before work and work and work swept it away. A good smile. Mary could work up her courage if she could see that smile again, on her parents.

“It's our parent's anniversary this weekend. And we wanted to do something nice.” She nudged her brother a bit, not enough to jar him from his position behind her. “So we didn't get fries all this month, and we saved our lunch money.”

“That's really nice of you. What were you thinking of getting for them?”

She could do this. Adults weren't scary. She talked to her parents all the time, and her teachers, when she had a question. “Mum's engagement ring. They sold it so Mum could get her medicine, but she cried after. It means a lot, because it's not much, but Daddy says it was all he could afford at the time, and Mum loves it anyways. She said it was a promise that things would get better.”

And things did get better. But then Mum got sick and things got worse. Aunt Ruth had to look after them, because Daddy was at work all the time.

Red Hood nodded. “So do you need me to go find out which store it's at?”

“No, we know. But...” Mary looked down.

“We're scared to go alone.” Jamie spoke, surprising Mary. He hadn't spoken to anyone who wasn't family in over a month. And Aunt Ruth didn't count. She wasn't family.

“Yeah, places are always scary at night. Hm.” Mr. Red looked down at his clothes. “I'm dressed a little weird to go to the store with you. Meet me downstairs in twenty minutes?”

Mary nodded, pulling Jamie back towards the fire escape. Before she started down, she glared at Mr. Red. “Twenty minutes.” Adults forgot a lot, so she had to remind him.

He saluted with two fingers, aiming his gun thing with the other. “Twenty minutes.” He didn't say that he promised, but Mary could hear it in his words. So she nodded and headed for their window.

When she got back to their apartment, Jamie was already in their room, grabbing money from all their hiding places and sticking it in his school bag. Mary raced to help, pulling bills from between book pages and between folded clothes. Then she grabbed their coats from the closet, making sure Jamie had his zipped up all the way.

Now for the hard part. The fire escape didn't go all the way to the ground, so they had to take the stairs. But Aunt Ruth was asleep in the other room. Mary held a finger to her lips, reminding Jamie to be quiet. He nodded, clutching his backpack straps until his knuckles turned white.

They were very quiet, and got out to the hall without waking their aunt. At the same time, they sighed with relief, then smiled and headed downstairs.

By the time they got out the front door, someone who had to be Mr. Red was waiting for them. He had a red hoodie on under his jacket, and a baseball hat and sunglasses. “Ready to go?”

Mary nodded, grabbing one of his hands. Jamie grabbed the other one, and they started towards the pawn shop.

The pawn shop was just as scary as Mary remembered. Maybe more, because when she had gone with Daddy last month, it had been day. There was a man at the counter arguing with the shop guy, and he looked exactly like the villains in cartoons did, the biker ones who traveled in packs and circled people. He looked scary, was what Mary was getting at.

But Mr. Red moved towards the jewelry cases to the left of the scary guy. Mr. Red pushed them forward with one hand on each of their backs, saying, “Ok kids. Find the one you want and we'll get it.”

Mary took a deep breath. They would be fine. Mr. Red was here. She and Jamie pressed both of their noses to the glass and searched. Not that one, or that one. That one there had silver braiding, but it wasn't Mum's. Neither was the one that had diamonds, or the one with little hearts on it.

Jamie jumped, pointing excitedly at the glass. There! Mary pointed it out to Mr. Red. “This one! With the blue stone!” Mum had said it was a turquoise.

Mr. Red leaned over the case so he could take a closer look. “Oh. That's a nice one.” The man arguing with the shop guy shouted something bad and stormed out. “And it looks like it's our turn. Excuse me, could we get this one please?”

The shop guy shot up a finger at the scary guy and then turned to see which one they were pointing at. If Mary did that, or said the thing the scary guy did, she would be grounded for a week. “The blue one? Sure. That'll be fifty bucks.”

Jamie pulled his backpack off of his back and started grabbing bills out. Mary helped him put them on the counter. The shop guy raised an eyebrow, but started counting. After a minute, he'd stacked most of their singles to one side and pushed the rest back towards them. “Twelve bucks change.” He dropped the ring in a little cloth bag and handed it over.

Mary smiled wide as Mr. Red helped Jaime put the rest of their money in their bag. “Thanks mister shop guy! You're the best!”

The shop guy smiled, waving at them as they headed out the door. Mary waved back and closed the door gently behind her. “Mr. Red? Thanks for taking us to the store.”

“You're welcome Mary.”

Mum and Daddy loved their anniversary present. After the pawn store, Mr. Red had taken them to a flower shop, so they could get flowers. Twelve dollars didn't buy many flowers, so they added leaves from the fern in their apartment to make it prettier. Mum cried when she got her ring back, and Daddy promised not to sell it again.

A month later, Mum was out of the hospital, with all her bills paid by an anonymous source. She still needed lots of recovery, but she would be okay.

 

* * *

 

He never would have seen it if he hadn't been across the street getting a chili dog.

It had been a long, slow night. The main problem with his method of crime fighting was the fact that the longer he went on, the fewer people there were to commit crime. There would always be people who broke the law, but the repeat offenders were all dead, and the ones who were considering it were too scared to.

For the most part anyways. Clearly, the masked twelve year old holding up the convenience store across the street wasn't scared of anything. Where had she even gotten a gun?

He spared his chili dog a longing look before holding it out to the vendor. “Can you watch this for me for a few minutes? I need to go take care of that before the cops show up.”

“Of course,” Food Cart Guy replied cheerfully as Red Hood put his helmet back on. “Anything for my best customer!”

Red Hood waved, then shoved his hands in his pockets. He strolled across the street like he had all the time in the world, pausing slightly while the ancient automatic door acknowledged his presence and opened. The kid with the gun pointed it away from the terrified cashier (a pimply seventeen year old, in the middle of shoving cash into a plastic bag) and at him. Which was preferable, always. Within four seconds, Red Hood had the gun out of the girl's hands, the magazine ejected and chamber emptied. Then he grabbed the girl around the waist and walked out, throwing a, “Sorry about that,” over his shoulder.

“Welcome back!” The hot dog vendor held out his chili dog, as well as a freshly made hot dog. “I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of making up another one for your friend there. She looks like she needs it.”

Red Hood took off his helmet, using the motion to sneak a fiver into the tip jar, then grabbed both the dogs one handed. “And that's why you're my favourite.” That, and the fact that Food Cart Guy rarely accepted payment from him, which meant he got to practice his reverse-pickpocketing. Also, his chili was the best in the city, hands down.

He put the girl down, handing her her food. She tried to bolt, but Jason grabbed her by the collar and pulled her back. “Hold on tater tot. You have to thank the nice man for the hot dog before you take off.”

She squirmed, looking between the food in her hands to the still smiling face of Food Cart Guy. Finally, she muttered, “Thanks.”

With a smile, Jason let her go. “Run off you scamp. And don't let me catch you robbing any more stores!” The last sentence he shouted at her retreating back.

Shaking his head, he turned back to his food. He had a nice long conversation with Food Cart Guy, which got interrupted when the police finally arrived to deal with the armed robbery.

It was about two weeks later when he saw her again. She was, despite not being anywhere old enough to drive, trying to boost a car. He landed behind her and grabbed her by the collar, picking her up. “License and registration please?”

She took a swing at him, so he held her out at arm's length. With the difference in reach, she couldn't quite make it. “Screw off you turd! I need this car!”

“Any particular reason why?” She didn't say anything, just scowled. “Look kiddo, I've held people way larger than you for way longer than you can imagine. So holding you up is going to be no problem. And,” he pushed one of her arms down when she lifted them, “please don't slip out of your shirt. It's freezing out.”

“Fine!” She forced the word out through her teeth, throwing a spiteful kick at his thigh. He didn't flinch when it landed. “I need to sell it so I can get Mom her medicine.” The desperation in her eyes, the helplessness. It was familiar and Jason believed her.

“Alright.” He set her on the ground, but didn't let go. Instead, he pulled a few hundred dollars from his belt. “As long as you can promise that this doesn't go towards street drugs or to some gang boss, you can have it.”

Her eyes fixed on the wad of cash, hopeful. “I promise. I'll only use it for Mom's medicine.” He relaxed his grip slightly and she whisked it out of his hand. It disappeared almost immediately.

“Hey now, I didn't say that.” Jason let go of her, poking her in the ribs. “You're too skinny. Buy yourself some food. And maybe a warmer coat.” The one she had was looking really ratty. “What's your name anyways?”

“Sira Morad.”

“Alright then. I'll walk you home Sira.” That was a lot of cash she was carrying, and if someone decided to have an issue with her, she might lose it.

But she shook her head. “I don't have a home. Mom's in the hospital, so we sold it to pay for her medical bills. I was supposed to go with Uncle Mark, but...” She winced. “He gives me the creeps. Kept touching me and saying stuff.”

That stumped Jason for a minute. “I may have a safe place you can stay. Just at night time though, it's being renovated during the day. It's pretty close to where I live, so I can even bring you a meal if you want.”

Sira hesitated. She didn't want to accept the help. But she also hadn't been on the streets long enough to completely distrust it. Jason guessed maybe four months, six on the outside. “Um. Sure.”

So, he took her to his apartment. Once she got over being afraid of being so high up, she thoroughly enjoyed the swing. He landed her on the third floor, and started the tour. “This bathroom works, has running water and everything. There isn't any electricity yet, but I can bring you a flashlight. Over here is the stairs, and the fire escape is over here. The elevators don't work yet either.”

As she got herself settled, he grappled up to the top floor. He tossed some leftovers in the microwave, then grabbed a blanket, pillow, a fork, battery-powered heater and a bar of soap. The leftovers went into a takeout container, then everything went into a backpack.

The next morning, she was gone, everything he'd given her stuffed into the bag. But she came back the next night, and the night after.

 

* * *

 

 

The RedKids chat room, a subsection of the website, was one of the more heavily encoded ones on the deep web. For a website made by and for children, it was very impressive. But for any kid who had the six different passwords to get in, it was simple. The first password was, of course, Red Hood's phone number. The second was user's choice, but the date the child had first met Red Hood, or their favourite food was recommended. The third was always changing, and one had to either log in once a week to get it, or text a friend who did. The fourth was the child's age. The fifth also changed, and the numbers and letters were found on the Red Hood theories board, the top left corner of the FAQ, and in the signature of 34th post in the recipes thread. The sixth password was also user chosen, and personal.

The kids didn't mind how long it took to get online. For most of them, it felt like being in a spy movie and they had to hack in using all the knowledge and clues they collected over the week. And of course, they all understood that if the chat room got leaked to anyone who didn't like Red Hood, it wouldn't be very difficult to attack or arrest him. Because the kids of Bludhaven kept tabs on their protector.

It wasn't all, “I saw Red Hood here,” and, “Red Hood talked to me at this time.” Most of it was just kids talking to kids. But every once in awhile, someone would write – in all caps – that they'd seen or interacted or been saved by Red Hood. And the kids didn't want anyone to take advantage of that, so they used the six passwords.

It hadn't always been that way, of course. But a number of the older kids had been there when Red had walked out of Warehouse 17, hurt badly, and CandyForAll had come online later saying her dad had found the website, and her dad was part of the gang that had been found mostly dead in Warehouse 17 and...

Well. It hadn't been hard to work out.

The new precautions had gone up when Red was in the hospital and were fully functioning. And truly, Oracle was very impressed with it all. But it wasn't quite enough to keep her from gaining access.

Barbara Gordon had opinions on the matter of Red Hood. Ones she was sure Dick and Bruce wouldn't agree with, especially now that Dick had seen Red Hood in action. As the daughter of a cop, specifically a Gotham cop, she understood that not every cop was on the side of good. As the silent partner of the Task Force X, she understood that doing bad things in the name of good wasn't always a bad thing. And as the victim of the Joker, she understood that being angry was a normal stage of grief. Her own grief at losing her legs had driven her to being an information broker and keeper of knowledge. There was nothing she didn't know or couldn't find out, which in turn helped her get over it and move on as much as she was able. She would always miss the use of her legs, but she could still be helpful, still defend herself and save lives.

Jason's grief, at his own death and possibly other things – if what the children were saying was true – had driven him to becoming the Red Hood. He hadn't yet gotten over any of it, and that was ok. Killing people wasn't and Barbara couldn't forgive it, but she could understand it.

Bruce and Dick refused to understand. Someone who had been trained by them, someone they had considered son and brother, was ruthlessly murdering people. Babs sighed at one of her screens, the one showing the interior of the Batcave where Bruce and Dick were having yet another argument about how to handle the situation. It had been like this for ages. They'd argue, stomp off in a huff, get busy with the Titans or the Outsiders or the League and then meet again a week or two later to argue again.

Neither of them were thinking clearly about this at all. In fact, both of them refused to see all the sides. Dick was much too hyper-focused on Jason's betrayal of Batman's values, and Bruce was desperately trying to cut off all emotional ties to the case. Of course, that meant staring at the same damned crime stats chart for a month, and completely ignoring Jason's effects on the children of Bludhaven, and their effect on him.

Her fingernail tapped on the desk. Unfortunately, understanding why Jason did something wasn't enough, and it excused nothing. As much as she wanted to leave Jason alone, she knew she couldn't. She understood where he was coming from, but people were still dying. She needed to know if that was going to continue. And if she was going to be the only one willing to look at all the facts in this case, so be it.

She sighed again, drank the rest of the cold tea in her mug, then wheeled herself over to the training room. “Steph? I need you to do me a favour.”

Stephanie Brown, Spoiler, formerly thought dead, punched her way through one more training dummy, then wiped her face off with a towel. “Sure! What did you need?” Her left arm was out of the sling, and the stitches were out, but it was still healing.

“I need you to go to Bludhaven and make contact with Red Hood.” Babs smiled as Steph's mouth dropped open, and started wheeling herself back to the computer room.

Steph followed, a too-innocent look on her face. “Isn't that the guy you and Bruce told me to avoid at all costs because he was dangerous?”

“Yes.” Barbara stopped in front of her favourite keyboard and started typing. “Not that it stopped you.” Not that it ever stopped her.

“What?”

Instead of answering, Barbara pulled up a picture of Steph. In Bludhaven. Fighting beside Red Hood. “You've already been. And met him.” Steph groaned, dropping her head into her hands. Babs grinned, still pulling up pictures, this time just of Jason. The one picture they have of him as a child, a foster system photo, and one of him smiling in the Robin suit. “I can see why you were curious. You're both from lower Gotham.”

“And we're both the failure Robins.” Barbara winced as Steph pulled her head out of her hands. “We both died on the job. And we were both used as a way for Bruce to throw man-pain around.”

She couldn't help it. Babs snorted. Quickly, she tried to compose herself, putting on a serious face. When she was almost sure she'd succeeded, she turned around. “Why did you go to Bludhaven?”

“Because Bruce told me not to.” Steph said it with such a straight face, she had Barbara laughing again. “Because Bruce said he was dangerous, and that he had a temper. Because disobeying orders had gotten him killed. Because that's the same thing that lead to my quote-unquote 'death', and I wanted to meet him.”

Barbara didn't look at Steph. She knew what she would see there. “And what did you think.” It wasn't a question. Not when she knew the answer.

“I think you were wrong. About everything.”

“He is dangerous you know.” Babs looked up, into Steph's eyes, into the quiet condemnation there. “He told Nightwing that he would kill any of us who came to Bludhaven.” Her computer beeped an alarm, but she ignored it.

But Steph just smiled. “You've heard the audio logs just as often as I have Oracle. More often. He threatened Batman, Nightwing, and Robin. Currently, I am none of them.”

“So you risked your life on a technicality? On the idea that you could point that out to him before he killed you?” The computer beeped again. Stephanie opened her mouth, but Babs cut her off. “I know, you went in civvies, there was no reason for him to have known that you had been Robin, or were in the life. But on the smallest chance that he did-”

“Babs. Your computer.” Steph wasn't even looking at Barbara anymore. She was staring, wide eyed and slack jawed at the screen. Curious, concerned, Babs turned around.

A special news report. Janus Cosmetics, a front for Black Mask's operations, had just had its top floor bombed. Black Mask's office, to be specific. Quickly, Oracle pulled up surveillance footage from the building from before the bombing. Like most illicit businesses in Gotham, Black Mask had learned the hard way that he should have cameras outside, and on the higher floors.

Hacking the system was child's play, getting the footage, even more so. And when she had, she leaned back. “Well Steph. Looks like you were right. You may be the only person he'll allow in Bludhaven after all.”

On the screen, a grainy, pixelated, but unmistakable Red Hood signed something, then waved at the camera, rocket launcher aimed to fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE. My laptop fell and broke and I just got it back from the repair place today. (New keyboard to break in, so that's nice~) Anyways, extra long chapter to make up for it!
> 
> Anyways, still taking requests, although I may have to close them at some point. I really don't want to but goodness, you guys are really good at this.
> 
> Read and enjoy my people!


	8. Doctor Benson and Shazam 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets a surprise check-up. A superhero comes to Bludhaven.

He was perched on a gargoyle, one of the few in Bludhaven, looking out over a large group of guys. They weren't doing anything, not yet, but they'd catcalled more than a few women – and a few of the better looking men – who had crossed the street to avoid them. As they got more drunk, the catcalling got more profane. They hadn't done anything yet, but still, this wasn't really good behaviour. With a vicious grin, Red Hood attached his line to the building opposite and swung down.

Ten minutes later, the guys were walking away with bruises and Red Hood was back on his rooftop. His new hobby (read: ruining Black Mask) was good for a few days as the Gotham crime lord scrambled to find out who had bombed him. Honestly, he would have been expecting retaliation right about now except for the text message from a phone that didn't exist that told him that the camera he'd been recorded on had been wiped. So he was safe for a bit.

And actually, he should be a lot more careful. Maybe make sure that no one saw his sabotage from now on. If he accidentally dragged Maskie to Bludhaven, a lot of kids could get caught in the crossfire.

Speaking of. One of the Bludhaven kids was tapping on his shoulder. He looked about thirteen, and was carrying an old fashioned doctor's satchel. “Heya kiddo. What can I help you with?”

The kid pressed his lips together and in complete seriousness said,“I wanna be a doctor when I grow up. So I need to give you a check up.”

Jason pulled off his helmet and made a show of thinking about it. “Sounds good to me. But I'm not taking off my jacket.”

The kid snorted. “Of course not. It's cold out and you'll catch your death.”

“Yup. So, who's my physician today?”

The kid opened his kit and pulled out a thermometer. “I am Doctor-in-training Benson. Mouth open please. And don't worry. I sterilized everything this morning with really hot water and soap.”

“Well that's good to hear.” Jason said around the thermometer. “What kind of doctor are you going to be? Pediatrics? Emergency?”

“No, just medical.” The thermometer came out, and Doctor Benson stared at it critically before nodding. Next came out an otoscope. “I'm going to find out what diseases people have and give them medicine to make them feel better.”

Jason shivered a bit as the cold plastic went into his ear. “That's a good field. Only doctor I know kind of did everything, but she was mostly a surgeon.”

Doctor Benson ran another critical eye over the otoscope, then stashed it in his bag. “The TV said that surgeons are the jocks of the hospital. Always high fiving each other and bragging about their surgeries.”

“The TV is probably right about that. But this lady was always too busy to brag.”

“Hm.” Doctor Benson looked Jason over. “That's it for measuring stuff. I asked Mom for a stethoscope for my birthday, but that's not for another six months. Do you have any injuries I should be aware of?”

Jason thought back. Stitches on his thigh, mostly healed broken toe, numerous abrasions. “Just one. I got a bruise on my arm in the fight down there.” He rolled up his sleeve just enough. The soon-to-be bruise was turning red and swelling a little bit. It would likely turn purple tomorrow and be gone in a week or two.

Doctor Benson ran a critical eye over the injury. “It's not too serious. It'll hurt tomorrow though, so don't bump it into stuff.” And then he stuck a bandaid on it. “That's to remind you that it's there. One time, I forgot that I had a bruise and I smacked it into a table.”

“Sounds like it hurt.”

“It did. A lot. So don't smack your bruise into a table. Doctor's orders.”

“You got it Doc. Anything else?”

He gave it some thought. “No. It's not serious enough for a cold pack. Just don't smack it into stuff and it'll go away.”

Jason gave the doctor-in-training a crooked smile. “Thanks Doc. I feel lots better now.”

Doctor Benson wrote something on a notepad, then tore off the top sheet and handed it over. “Here's your prescription for the month. I want to see you when it runs out for a follow-up. And here,” he reached into his bag once more and pulled out a lollipop, “the red ones are the best.”

“They sure are.” Jason pulled off the wrapped and stuck the candy in his mouth.

Doctor Benson took out his own lollipop, red as well, and sat next to Jason until the only thing left of the candies were two paper sticks. “Well, I should get to my next patient.”

“Yes, good idea. And I've got a mugging or something to stop. Thank you for the check up Doctor.”

“You're welcome. And remember,” Doctor Benson looked him square in the eye, “one month for your follow up. Follow your prescription to the letter.”

Jason waved the paper reassuringly. “You got it. See you in a month.” When Doctor Benson had closed the roof access door behind him, Jason looked at his prescription. “Eight hours of sleep, three balanced meals, lots of water. Every day for a month. Refills: unlimited.”

With a chuckle, Jason tucked the prescription in his pocket and grappled away.

 

* * *

 

 

"Red! Get in here! Hurry!”

Jason's feet smacked against the building, and he pushed himself off, using his still extended line to swing back towards the kid yelling at him. He skidded to a stop on the kid's fire escape and reeled in his line. “Hey. Where's the fire?”

The girl – sixteen, kind of familiar – grabbed his jacket and pulled him into her apartment. Jason, caught off guard, faceplanted into her carpet. “Shh. There's a cape flying around.” The girl stuck her head out the window and looked around for a moment before slamming the window shut and closing the curtains. “We don't know why, but after last time, we're not taking any chances.”

Last time, when Superman beat him up without so much as a, “How do you do?” Jason pushed himself into a sitting position and pulled off his helmet. “It's a good attempt kids, but if Superman's out there again, he's going to find me. Superhearing and all that. But you're right, he probably won't break your house to get me out.” Despite throwing the terrible Red Hood into numerous buildings last time, the property damage had been surprisingly low.

Then again, in a fight between bones and brick, brick wins.

But the girl was shaking her head, typing something on her phone. “It's not Superman. It's some other dude in a cape.” Her phone beeped, and she typed another reply. “The guy from Fawcett apparently. Captain Marvel.”

“He's got superhearing too,” Jason pointed out. He smiled a bit. “Don't worry, I can handle him.” Standing up, he grabbed the bottom of the window, stopping when the girl grabbed his arm.

“No! You're going to get beat up again, and then things will be worse than before!”

Jason froze. Then he used his free hand to gently pat her arm. “I'll be fine, I promise. Captain Marvel won't hurt me.” He knew he'd recognized her. Shawn Lachance. She'd gotten mugged (just mugged, thankfully) in the first week he'd been in the hospital. It had been bad enough that she'd gotten a thirty second segment on the morning news. Even now, one of her legs was encased in a walking cast. “We'll talk, and then he'll leave and I'll come back and show you I'm ok, alright?”

She nodded, reluctantly, and let go of his arm. He gave her another quick smile, then grabbed his helmet and jumped out the window.

Captain Marvel wasn't hard to find. He was flying back and forth in a search grid, obviously trying to catch Red Hood while he was grappling. Red Hood took a few minutes to figure out his search pattern, then climbed to a spire a little higher than the good Captain was flying. A spire that he knew was in plain view of several of the Red Kids' windows. Hopefully, they'd keep Shawn updated.

The spire had a platform near the top, and Red Hood sat on it, the picture of relaxation with one leg drawn to his chest and the other dangling. As he waited for the Captain's search pattern to bring him closer, he mapped out escape routes, just in case he'd misread the situation. When the Captain was just below him, he called out, “Can I help you with something?”

Captain Marvel jerked, twisting around mid-air to get a good look at Red Hood. A wide smile broke out on the Captain's face, quickly smothered into a more professional expression, but the fact that it had been there put Red Hood at ease. Kind of. He wasn't going to drop his guard, but it was nice to know that he wasn't going to be attacked in half a second. Captain Marvel really wasn't the type, but then again, it had been more than a few years since Robin and Captain Marvel had bonded over being street-kids-turned-heroes.

Captain Marvel, his face finally under control, floated up to Red Hood's level. “Red Hood. I've been looking for you.”

Red Hood leaned back a bit, resting his arm on his knee. “I heard. Well, you found me. And what are you going to do about it?”

“I... um.” Captain Marvel floated back a bit, hand going to his mouth in the traditional thinking pose. “I hadn't really thought about that.”

“Jail? Some secret Justice League lock-up?” He shifted until his back was pressed against the spire. “Send me to the hospital for another two months?”

“Gosh no! Superman sent you to the hospital for two months?” Captain Marvel looked a tad horrified, even more when Red Hood just shrugged nonchalantly. “No, I just kind of... wanted to talk?”

Red Hood quirked a smile. “What about?” He ran through the most likely topics. So far, the heroes who'd come into his city had surprised him. Not Dick, he'd predicted that, but Flash and Spoiler didn't seem very judgmental about what he was doing here. So, would Captain Marvel continue the pattern, or would he start on the killing is evil spiel?

“Um... Why don't we start with your favourite food?” Captain Marvel crossed his legs, still floating, and leaned forward like he actually wanted to hear the answer.

Jason smiled under his helmet. Glad to see nothing had changed. “Chili dogs. Or Mongolian hot pot, but that's for when I have time to cook.” It didn't really take any time to prepare, but he liked to enjoy hot pot, not scarf it down five minutes before patrol. “You?”

“Churros!” Yep, nothing had changed. “But for not-dessert, it's pizza. What's Mongolian hot pot like?”

“It's a lot of prep work. Meats and veggies all thin sliced, then you cook each piece individually in a spicy broth. Eat it when it's cooked.”

Captain Marvel smiled bright. “Nice! That sounds awesome!”

“It is pretty tasty. You should try it sometime. Maybe get the League together when you do though. It's definitely better in a group.” Once every few months, the people in his apartment would bring whatever they could afford and they'd have a hot pot party. He'd tried it at the manor once. Bruce had had to leave before his first piece of chicken had cooked all the way through. “Why are you really here Captain? Because I'm pretty sure you didn't fly all the way out here to talk food with a wanted criminal.”

Captain sniffed. “I could have. I can fly very fast.” He could, but Red Hood still didn't believe it. He just stared until the Captain squirmed. “I... _heard_ from a friend of mine that you'd do anything for the kids in this city.”

“That I would. And do. I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread it around though.”

“Why not? Something like that could make the League more gentle next time they try and arrest you.”

Haha, yeah right. If they wanted to arrest him, he was going to make them work for it. “Yeah, probably not. Lots of villains have a weak point. And I make a lot of enemies, mostly people with dubious moral codes. If any of them heard that the only thing it would take to get me in chains was threatening a kid, then they'd do it. And I'm not putting the kids in danger like that.”

“That's a good point.” The gears were turning in Captain Marvel's head, but there was nothing Red Hood could do about that. The Captain wasn't a detective by any means, but that didn't mean he was stupid. He could put the pieces together, if Red Hood gave him enough to work with. “But then, why do what you do? Wouldn't they be safer if you didn't kill so may people?”

“Because they wouldn't be safer. For a child, knowing that the one who murdered their parents or raped someone they knew is still out there is terrifying. Because in my experience, once they get out, criminals tend to go after the child that fingered them. But if I'm the one that catches them, even if I leave them alive, then they don't look at the kid that testified in court that, 'yes Your Honor, that's the man that hurt Mommy.' 'That's the one who killed my neighbour Mike.' They come after me, because it's easier to pin the blame on someone wearing a bright red helmet.”

Marvel nodded, thinking, absorbing the information. “Couldn't you just do that then? Leave them alive to come after you? Killing people isn't right.”

He snorted. “I'm aware. At the end of all of this, someone's going to put a bullet between my eyes and I'll deserve it, one hundred percent. But until then, the good people of Bludhaven, few and far between they may be, can't afford to have repeat offenders getting out on a technicality, or on bail after just a few months, or not going away at all. If this city wants me gone, they're going to have to flush out the corruption in their legal system. Or I'll do it for them.”

It was risky, telling a member of the Justice League that he was going to kill the corrupt cops and judges of Bludhaven. He didn't know why he was doing it. Maybe he just wanted all the cards on the table. Give them an excuse to come after him.

Captain Marvel gave him a weak smile. “You know, if anyone else had told me that, I'd have to arrest them. Or at least tell the authorities to keep an eye on you.”

“I'm the Red Hood. The authorities have two eyes on me.”

“But Batman told us not to touch you. Actually, he said that if we did, he'd cut off the League's funding and ruin us all financially.”

That was surprising. Maybe Batman wanted the satisfaction of taking him in himself.

Cautiously, Captain Marvel flew closer. “That's not why I'm leaving you alone though.” When Jason didn't move, Cap sat next to him. “You were my friend Robin. I don't like what you've become, but I want you to be happy.”

The familiar sound of the hydraulics hissed in his ear as he pulled his helmet off. “How long have you known?”

“After we met, and you told me you knew who I was, I kind of freaked out. So I talked to some of the other kids in Bludhaven, to try and see if you were the kind of person who would tell people or not. They ended up giving me your phone number and introducing me to the website. I couldn't get on a lot, because the library in Fawcett has stupid rules for using the computers, but I got on enough to find the Red Hood Theories board.”

Jason smiled wistfully. “Knew I should have told them to take that down.”

Captain Marvel – Billy – eased back until he was leaning on the spire too, until their shoulders were touching. “Nah, you never would. Anyways, when you said chili dogs were your favourite food, that kind of confirmed it for me. And I don't know how you're back, but I'm glad you are.”

“Thanks Billy.” Hearing that, it was... it was really nice.

“You're welcome Jason.”

Captain Marvel had to leave eventually. An emergency at the Rock of Eternity apparently. But before he did, Jason had him drop him off on top of Shawn's building.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of this is heavily influenced by [redrobin-detective's](https://redrobin-detective.tumblr.com/) Billy headcanons on tumblr.
> 
> If anyone has any questions about Jason's logic here, let me know.
> 
> Just some nice fluffy fluff this week guys! Enjoy!


	9. Little Red and Eggplant 2: The Eggplantening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has an unfortunate encounter on a balcony. Then he tries to talk to people, and gets interrupted.

He was just grappling – enjoying the feeling of flying through the city with no particular destination in mind – when he noticed something incredibly worrying. A kid, maybe seven years old, sitting on a hotel balcony and playing with a gun. An actual, metal, real gun.

Jason landed on the other end of the balcony, hands spread wide. He left his helmet on, just in case the kid decided to take a shot at him. “Alright kiddo. That's not exactly a water gun. Why don't you put it down and we'll get you something safer to play with?”

The girl smiled wide. “Are you friends with Daddy? I haven't met you yet! My name is Lian!” And she extended one hand in a handshake, the other holding the gun near her waist.

Jason stepped down onto the balcony, his own hand extended. “My name's Red. Nice to meet you.” And then he pulled her slightly, twisting the gun out of her other hand, being careful not to hurt her or accidentally pull the trigger.

Except the gun was a lot lighter than it should have been. Ignoring Lian's protests (and her name sounded familiar, but really, he'd met so many kids that every name was starting to sound familiar), he flipped the gun over in his hand. No magazine. Well. While it was nice that her life hadn't actually been in danger-

The thought cut off abruptly when something metallic clicked against his helmet. “Raise your hands and turn around slowly.” That voice was definitely familiar.

Jason cursed at himself. Lian. Lian Harper. She had just been a baby when he'd last seen her, so it was little wonder he hadn't recognized her, but now that he was looking, she looked a lot like her mom. She had her dad's nose though.

Slowly, he turned. Roy Harper had a gun pointed at his forehead and while his helmet was fantastic, it wouldn't stop a bullet point-blank. Roy looked over Red's shoulder. “You ok Pumpkin?”

Jason could just imagine the pout on Lian's face as she said, “Don't call me pum'kin.” A pause, then, “This one isn't one of your friends?”

“Nope.” And a shit-eating smirk spread over Roy's face. “We just caught ourselves a villain Lian. Not bad for a day, huh?”

“Don't act so proud of yourself a-hole.” In one quick movement, Red Hood threw the gun in his hand at Roy, grabbed Roy's gun when he dodged, and pointed it back at him. He wasn't nearly as careful disarming Roy, so the archer was cradling his bruised hand to his chest. “Who in their right minds lets a seven year old play with guns?!”

Roy frowned, confused. This clearly wasn't where he had expected the conversation to go. “It wasn't loaded.”

“So? She's seven! If you make it ok for her to touch guns, who's to say the next time she's playing and you're not supervising, she won't grab a loaded one?” He stuck Roy's gun in his pocket, then pulled out his own two guns. He ejected the magazine and cleared the chamber on one then put them behind his back and mixed them up, making sure neither Harper couldn't see. Then he pulled them out. “Which one is loaded. Can you tell? Can she?”

Lian thought for a second, then pointed at the one on the left. “That one!”

Jason flipped it, showing the magazine still nestled in the grip. “Nope. If she plays with this, she could shoot herself. Have you even shown her proper gun control?” Because she was already playing with guns, and kids could be very stubborn about their toys. If she liked playing with them, she was going to keep doing it, no matter what Roy told her.

Roy averted his eyes. Red Hood knew he hadn't because Roy probably hadn't been taught. Ollie was one hell of an archer, but he knew zilch about guns. “Um.”

Jason just rolled his eyes and knelt next to Lian. He holstered his loaded gun, showing her the empty one. “First thing you wanna do is make sure the gun isn't pointed at anyone.” He very obviously pointed the gun straight in the air, away from any buildings. Lian leaned in, curious. So did Roy. “Then make sure the magazine is out,” he flipped the gun over to show her the slot where the magazine would go, “and then check and see of the chamber is clear.” He pulled back on the action, opening the gun. “See right here? If there was a bullet here, it would have been ejected when we opened the action. But you also need to check down here,” he pointed to where the magazine would have connected to the chamber, “to make sure that there's nothing here either. Lastly, and this is going to seem weird, but you need to look down the barrel.”

He pointed the gun directly at his eye, checking quickly before turning the gun to its previous position. “It's safe because I already checked to see if there was any bullets in it. But you need to check the barrel for obstructions, because if there's anything in there, it'll backfire and that could kill you.” Lian looked appropriately solemn at the words. “Got it?”

Lian nodded. “Why is your finger there?” She pointed at where his finger was resting along the barrel.

“Good question. TV and movies will tell you otherwise, but you should never stick your finger in the trigger, not unless you're ready to fire.” He closed up the action, and grabbed the gun by the barrel. “Assume every gun is loaded. You just saw me prove that this wasn't loaded, right? Doesn't matter. If I hand this to you, you also have to prove it's not loaded. When I take it back, I have to do it again.”

Obviously, Jason didn't do this in the field. There normally wasn't time. But his guns were in his direct control at all times in the field, so he didn't have to. He did do it before he left his apartment every night though.

Lian carefully grabbed the gun, and went through all the steps. She had a little trouble with the barrel, so Jason stuck his flashlight into the action to light up the bore. “And I do this every time?”

“You shouldn't even be playing with guns. But yes, every time you grab a gun. If you put it down and go get a juice box, you have to do it when you get back.”

Lian looked at her father. Roy shrugged. “That sounds right. Looks like that's our new playtime rule.”

She pouted. “That sounds annoying. Don't wanna.”

“Well, now you gotta. Sorry kiddo.” Roy did look sorry, but from the clamminess of his face, he was more sorry that he'd let his daughter play unsafely than he was about instituting a new rule. He should be.

Lian sat down on the balcony again, checking that the gun was empty and then going back to playing with it. She had a complicated scenario going on where one of her dolls had betrayed the rest of them and sold them out to the house plant overlord.

Red Hood grabbed up the gun Roy had pointed at him and emptied it. Then he handed it grip first to the archer, who holstered it. “Honestly. What were you thinking? That is terrible parenting.”

“Shut up. With my line of work, she can't be scared of guns. If someone holds one on her, she can't freeze, or she'll die. She needs to be able to act. And yes, I have been teaching her how to dodge projectiles, but I'm using nerf guns for that.”

That wasn't a terrible plan. It was bad, but not horrendously terrible. Jason chose not to comment on it. Actually, he was seriously regretting landing on this rooftop. First Wally, now Roy. Why were all of Dick's friends coming to his city? “So, what're you doing in Bludhaven?”

“Nice try. I'm not telling a supervillain anything.” Roy leaned next to him on the railing, watching his daughter play.

Red Hood eyed the distance to the nearest skyscraper. Just a little out of range for his grapple. He'd have to jump. “I'm not a supervillain. I don't have any powers.”

“Still a villain.”

“Yeah, keep telling people that.” Roy gave him an odd look. “Seriously. The more people think I'm an evil villain who kills crooks for fun, the safer the kids of Bludhaven are.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ask Flash.” There, a few blocks over, a man was being herded into an alley by a group of guys. That couldn't be anything good. “Gotta go. Get out of my city and never come back. Lian however, can come back any time she wants.” He offered the girl a pack of fruit snacks and a small wave as he dived off the railing.

Sweet kid. Too bad her dad was a bit of a tool.

 

* * *

 

The main problem with the Red Kids running around on the streets was that they were running around on the streets. Jason had managed to get them to back off when he'd been in the hospital, because the thought of having them out there with the more vicious crooks crawling out of their hidey holes had nearly given him a heart attack, and he probably looked pathetic enough that they'd agree with anything. But with him out and back to a hundred percent, putting the scummiest scum in the ground or in traction, they figured it was just safe enough for them to start taking on muggers and drug peddlers and that was not okay.

So he went onto the website and posted something really quick. The only other two posts he'd made had been ridiculously popular, and he really hoped that this one would be no different. “ _If you have, are currently, or are considering hitting the streets and copying me, come to River Heights Apartments, Friday at 6. We need to have a chat._ ”

Considering how hard they worked to avoid him when they were out, he didn't have much hope that they'd show. Still, he had to try.

His renovations were done at least. At his request, the entire bottom floor had been cleared of living spaces and separated into three parts. The lobby, a conference room, and another room that still needed some things before it was done.

But that was for later. For right now, “Hey Candy.” To her credit, the woman didn't jump when he emerged from the alley behind her. “Can you do me a favour?”

She crooked him a smile, drawing the gaudily pretty but incredibly warm coat closer around her. “For you love? Hun, you got James off my back, and the backs of every girl on this street. You can ask me for anything.”

Red Hood smiled, trying to project the expression in his body language as well. Sometimes, his helmet was just a nuisance. “I need you to ask around. If any of you ladies need a day job, come to River Heights Apartments. Good pay, good enough to get off the corners if you want and I'll treat you like a person. The only downside is there's going to be a lot of kids hanging around.”

“Hm.” Candy took a drag off of her cigarette as she thought. “Tempting. I know a few of the younger girls might go for it. What kind of work?”

“Cleaning, cooking, teaching. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but it's what I have.” Because he couldn't hire an actual cleaning company to do anything, because they'd report him in an instant. “Spread the word?”

“Of course sweetie.” Candy leaned forward and planted a kiss on his helmet. “You're just a softie under that helmet, aren't you?”

“No.” At other times, his helmet was a blessing. Like now, Jason thought as his cheeks burned. “I'm just as terrible and badass as all the rumors of me say.” Thankfully, the rumors said very little about his soft spot for kids and women. The shooting-people thing did tend to overshadow everything else.

She gave his helmet a pat. “Course you are. Now get off my corner before you scare away all the johns.” Candy turned back to the street, giving him a short wave.

Candy was one of the information nexuses of the prostitutes in the city, along with Ruthie, Tina, Destiny and Sugar. They didn't hear everything, but if something was wrong, it always filtered back to them, and they normally told Red Hood. Similarly, if Red Hood needed them to clear out an area due to imminent gang war, he told each of them. Between the five of them, every prostitute in the city would hear his offer by tomorrow.

Red Hood grappled away, intent on finishing his patrol. He'd just landed when a voice came out of the shadows behind him. “What was that about?”

His gun was out and pointed between the person's eyes in half a second. The person – female, dressed in a purple hood and fully black face mask – held up her hands and took a step back. “Whoa, ok. Sorry. Sneaking up on you was a decision I very much regret right now. Can you maybe put the gun down? I just wanted to talk.”

It was the step back, more than her words, that convinced him she wasn't going to hurt him. Plus, Min had told him to give her a chance. Slowly, he tucked his gun back into its holster, although he kept his hand close to it. “Really? And didn't I say I'd shoot any of you who came to my city? Or did Dickwing not spread that around?” Which, Red Hood grudgingly admitted, wasn't really Grayson's style. Sure, he'd never cared when Jason had been around, but he seemed to care about the current batch of child soldiers.

“Um, not exactly.” The girl – Spoiler, if his flash drive was accurate – stuck an arm behind her back, and lifted one finger on her other one. “You said you would shoot Batman, Nightwing or Robin. I am none of those.”

Anymore. Yes, Jason knew she'd been Robin. But the fact that Bruce hadn't cared much about her dying made him less furious and more sympathetic. Even though he _really_ didn't want to be sympathetic. “So you're risking your life because of a technicality? What if I shoot you anyways?”

“Funny, Oracle said the same thing. The technicality bit, not the shooting bit. And you won't. Because I don't believe you're as bad as _they_ told me you were.”

“They” could only be Batman and his cronies. “I murder people all night kid. I'm not exactly a saint.” Because killing people was wrong without a doubt. But for Jason, the ends definitely justified the means.

She snorted and relaxed a bit. A vigilante's relaxation, where she was loose and comfortable, but also ready to strike at any moment. Good. She should be on her toes around him. “No kidding. But I was mostly talking about before.”

There was only one before. For Jason, and he suspected for her too. “Yeah. They got more than a few details about that wrong.”

From the way her mask twitched, she had raised an eyebrow. “You know what they said?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah.” It rattled through his head. The training videos, the audio logs, the written reports. As time went on, the memories fades from fond, grieving remembrance to a cautionary tale. _Jason was a bad Robin, who got himself killed because he was reckless and disobedient._ “I snuck into the Batcave, stole a bunch of files from the computer. That's how I knew who you were.”

Spoiler smiled a bit when he mentioned breaking into the Batcave. “I kind of figured. And thank you, by the way, for using ASL to tell us why you were blowing up Black Mask's HQ. Because now Oracle knows that I don't know it, so now she's teaching me.”

 _This one's for four._ Not a particularly explanatory message, unless you knew that Spoiler had been the fourth Robin, and that Black Mask had tortured and killed her. “Good. It's a good skill to have. Get her to teach you BSL too.”

“BSL? Don't tell me that stands for Bat Sign Language.” She wrinkled her nose at the idea.

Jason just smirked. “No, it normally stands for British Sign Language. But in this case, yes.” Because frickin' Batman had been paranoid enough about someone knowing enough sign language to understand their silent communication that he'd invented a whole new language. One which Jason couldn't use with the helmet on, because a good portion of it required micro-expressions.

Then again, maybe Spoiler shouldn't learn that one. Full face mask and all.

He should probably get her out of his city before she became annoying. Or started lecturing him. Because then he would shoot her and he really didn't want to do that. She seemed nice. “Well, it's nice that you were so confident I wouldn't shoot you to come over for a visit, but you should probably get gone before I change my mind.” He had a city full of prostitutes to talk to.

Her mask crinkled again, this time in a pout. “But you haven't answered my question yet. I mean, if you're really against it, I won't press, but I'm really curious.”

Jason groaned. “If this gets back to any of _them_ , I really will shoot you, understand?” She nodded. “You know how every superhero tends to acquire copy cats? Those random people who decide throwing on a mask makes them totally qualified to fight crime?”

“Yeah. I was kind of one of them. I mean, I had martial arts training, kinda, and I really only wanted to stop Cluemaster from doing crime, but it kind of became a thing after that.”

“Yeah, well, I have a bunch of them. All under the age of eighteen, and most of them don't have any sort of training.” Somehow, they'd wandered to the edge of the roof while they had been talking, and now had a really good view of the street. Spoiler pointed down at a food cart in askance, and he nodded. Never say no to food. They suspended their conversation while they grabbed some food (street Korean soft tacos, very delicious), then settled in on a rooftop three blocks away. “And I need to stop them, because they're going to get themselves killed.” He hesitated a moment before taking off his helmet. She didn't seem like the type to snitch to Batman.

Spoiler, her mask pushed up so the bottom was resting on her nose, leaving her mouth free, tore off a bite of taco before answering around her mouthful. “You don't know that. Maybe they'll get lucky and end up like us.”

“Tortured and murdered?”

“I was going to say currently alive and kicking ass, but never mind, I see your point. So, any sort of plan?”

“I was really hoping to talk them out of it. If that doesn't work though, I may have to show them a few scars.”

She snorted. “I can guarantee that won't scare away any of the street kids. A few of the more upper and middle class kids, maybe. But once you hit the kind of poverty I grew up in and lower, that doesn't work.”

Jason set his taco down and pulled down the collar of his shirt, shifting the Kevlar out of the way just enough. He didn't know how the autopsy scar had survived the Lazarus Pit. Maybe it had been too busy fixing his brain, maybe he hadn't been in long enough, maybe it was just too old of a scar. Either way, there it sat, protruding just a bit, and looking just as hideous as the day he'd gotten it. After all, when the mortician sewed up a corpse, he wasn't really looking at future cosmetic value.

Spoiler froze, then nodded. “Yup. That would do it. Maybe save it for Plan Z though.”

“Yeah. Right now, they just think I got really hurt, or Batman dropped me like a hot coal. I don't need the kids knowing I actually died. They worry too much about my worthless ass as is.”

She smacked him in the arm at that. “I should get back. If I stay too long, someone will decide you've shot me and come charging.”

“Hey, don't tempt me. I still might.” He really hoped he wouldn't though. “Nice seeing you, don't come back.”

“Yeah yeah. See you later Hood. Thanks for the food!” And she grappled off.

Right. That was a fun distraction. But he still had three women to talk to tonight and a really dumb drug dealer to shoot in the face.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to say that Roy is a fantastic dad, and that he loves and cares for his daughter so much. But also, he sometimes lets her play with guns.
> 
> By the by, all the information in this chapter comes from the Canadian Non-Restricted Firearms course, so it's accurate. You're supposed to do this every time your gun is not in your direct control (holding it, or having it within eye sight and arms reach and not being held by someone else). It's a safety thing. Also, never point a gun at someone, regardless of if it's loaded or if the safety's on. Assume every gun is always loaded and about to go off, and you'll never shoot anyone.
> 
> Steph doesn't have an account on RedKids, so I'm doing whatever I want with her chapter titles and no one can stop me! Mwaha.


	10. A Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting of Red Kids is called to order.

Macy was a Red Kid. Not one of the ones that went out at night, although she was considering it. Just one of the ones who spent her life on the website, making friends and trying not to be obnoxious outside of the Red Appreciation board. Which wasn't difficult, comparatively.

Outside of the board, she was coherent and finished all of her sentences. Inside the board, most of her posts went, “diD YOU SEE HIS ARMS?! THEY'RE JUST S O,” and sometimes, “Red can sit on me with those thigh any day is2g,” and once, “my perfect Dorito husband.” Of course, pretty much everyone on the board said the same kinds of things. And anyone who didn't want to be part of that simply didn't go on the board. Pictures taken of Red grappling past someone's window were posted to Appreciation and Sightings. Same with news.

Anyways, she kept that to the Appreciation board and conversations with her best friend. She'd never seen Red in real life, but she had seen enough photos online to know that he was gorgeous. And in the conversations people posted having with him, he was so kind and wonderful and she really wanted to meet him and maybe feel his muscles. She could. It wouldn't be so hard to phone or text him and ask him to meet her on the roof, but she also didn't really want to bother him and the idea of actually touching his muscles made her swoon a bit, so...

Maybe she would put on the leather jacket her aunt had gotten her for Christmas and roundhouse kick some people in the face. No, that wouldn't work. She didn't know how to roundhouse kick people. Maybe she should ask for Tae Kwon Do lessons for her birthday...

But then she went online one day after school and saw the new banner on the website. She'd never heard of River Heights, but a quick Google search told her it was an old apartment building that had been abandoned years ago due to unsafe living conditions. Why would Red ask them to go there?

But she had been considering going out. And she really couldn't pass up this chance. So, on Friday, she shrugged on her third warmest coat (it was getting warmer, but it was still the middle of March, and nighttime got chilly), and headed out for the apartment.

Shawn met her halfway there, and they spent the rest of the bus ride theorizing about whether Red had bleached his hair to get that white streak or if it was natural, and wondering exactly how ripped his arms were.

River Heights Apartments and Dojo (as the sign proclaimed) was very surprisingly not a derelict. The abandoned buildings she had seen before were always boarded up with broken windows and dirty walls. But this... This had lights on behind the sliding glass doors and the walls were clean and not crumbling. Not clean enough to stand out, but not gross enough to be an abandoned apartment.

The bottom floor was clearly freshly renovated, and the entire place smelled like paint and floor wax. The lobby had two large doors on opposite sides of the room, and elevators in the middle. A fairly bored looking older lady was sitting at reception, painting her nails. “If you're here for the meeting, it's to the left, in the study area.”

The what? “Thanks,” Macy said, throwing out a wave. To Shawn, she whispered, “Study rooms?”

Shawn just shrugged. “Sometimes hotels have rooms for conferences and stuff. Maybe this is something similar?”

That made sense. Macy pushed open the door, taking a look around. There were large windows all around the room, but all the curtains were shut tight. There were a bunch of chairs, more than half already filled with kids chatting. Macy recognized some of her friends from the Red Hood Appreciation Coffee Meet she'd attended last month, and headed over there, dragging Shawn behind her.

“Hey guys! Do you know what's going on?”

Addy, the leader of their fanclub and only one to have met Red Hood so far, shushed her, staring intently at the front of the room. “Macy, look at who's here!”

Oh.

My.

God.

 _Red Hood_.

He was sitting in a chair at the front, helmet off, reading a book.

Macy and Shawn immediately plopped next to Addy, gripping the chairs in front of them like their lives depended on it. Luckily, they were close to the front, and their view wasn't obstructed.

Macy immediately started memorizing features. The shape of his jaw and nose. His skin tone. The way his domino was so molded to his face, she could actually _see_ him raise an eyebrow at something that was happening in the book. _Dammit_ , she wished she'd brought her sketchbook!

She was so lost in the way she could just barely see his collar bones under his t-shirt that she nearly missed the girl at the front yelling at everyone to please be seated. Actually, she only caught it because someone sat in front of her, cutting off her view. With a grumble, she changed her angle. At the front, Red lazily flipped a page.

“Hello! Could everyone in the back come closer? Yup, fill all these spaces, thank you! Don't worry if you can't see, you'll all be able to come up in a bit.” The girl in front was making gesturing motions at the kids who were in the back. Honestly, if she hadn't seen Addy and the others, Macy would have been back there with them.

Finally, Red Hood stood up, putting his book down on the table near the front. “Hey guys.”

Oh God his _voice_. But Macy couldn't freak out about it, not yet, because he was still talking and she didn't want to miss a word.

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, the book was the best idea ever.

He had just been getting to a good part when he'd taken his seat at the front of the empty study room. By the time the chapter was over and he looked up again, the room was full and bustling and he hadn't noticed. So there was a lot less time for him to start panicking about doing this.

Still, by the time Madison had gotten everyone calmed down – she'd shown up four hours early and had helped him set up all the chairs – his heart was pounding. This was way more nerve wracking than jumping into a fight where he was outnumbered and outgunned. If he failed that, it was just his life that was at risk. Failing this could mean the death of every kid in this room. And there were a lot of them.

When he'd set out the chairs, he'd put out enough to fill the room, just because it filled the room. He hadn't though that more than eighty of the hundred and ten chairs would be occupied.

He memorized his page number, then put his book down on his chair. Taking a deep breath, he began. “Right. So as you've probably guessed, this meeting is _yet another_ attempt at me telling you guys to stop copying me and get off the streets.” A bunch of kids smiled and rolled their eyes at him. “I know I sound like a massive hypocrite, but can we just assume that this is me, with my years of experience being a punching bag for villains, telling you that vigilantism is a bad idea?”

In the crowd, he could see a few people look startled at the term, “punching bag.” Clearly, they hadn't thought of it like that. Still more looked determined though. Yeah, he hadn't thought it would be easy.

History time. They already knew most of this anyways. “I started when I was eleven. As Robin, as lots of you know. And while those years were some of the best of my life, I also almost died. Several times.” He didn't know what to do with his hands. Down by his side seemed too stiff, and he normally talked with them anyways, but he also didn't want to flail like a mad man. He settled for sticking them in his pockets, although he did worry that it made him look closed off. “Shot, stabbed, poisoned. Fear gas was a particular pain in the butt. This one villain tied me up with a rope that got tighter if I struggled. Don't know what would have done me in first. Being crushed to death or suffocation.” Joker. Joker had done that. He'd nearly forgotten.

_Focus Todd. Dwell later._

“Point is, I only survived because I had the best backup imaginable.”

One of the kids near the front raised their hand. Samson, it looked like, but if it was he'd dyed his hair green. “Ok, but you have no backup now, and you're still alive.”

Hahaha. Ha. He tried to keep his laughter off of his face because the kids didn't need that now. They didn't need him cracking jokes about his death, because then they'd know about his death. “Yeah, but I also have years of experience now.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was a bad idea.

Chelsea stood up, excited. “So you can be our backup! At least until we get our own experience!” This was met with a flood of agreement from the rest of the kids.

“No, you're missing the point!” Jason had to yell to be heard. “The point being that I almost died many, many times.”

Al in the back didn't stand, but he was tall enough to not need to. “But you didn't!”

 _Yes I did!_ He didn't say it, but it was close.

“Yeah! And you can protect us like you always do!” That was Corey.

Angela next. “Then we can help you, like how you helped us!”

“But I might not make it in time!” He'd known they would fight him on this, but he couldn't remember any of the arguments he'd pre-prepared.

But none of the kids seemed to hear him. Jason watched with growing dread as the kids got more and more excited. He tried to shout out a few times, but they were too loud. He should have installed a speaker system, he should have stopped this before it got out of hand, he should have explained better-

The crash of breaking glass was followed by silence as everyone tried to figure out what had happened. “Ow. Red, your windows are too clean.” Spoiler stood up, brushing glass shards off of her suit. Thankfully, her suit was very tear resistant, or she would be covered in lacerations. Then again, tear resistance was really necessary with the amount of window breaking their kind did. “I thought that was open.”

Jason took a deep breath. “Why would it be open? This is a private discussion Spoiler.”

She either didn't get the hint, or refused to acknowledge it. “Because it was so smudge free, it looked like open air. Anyways, I wanted to see how you're doing.” She took a long look around the room, taking in the kids' excited but wary expressions, and Jason's barely concealed panic. “Not great I see.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey!” Alex stood up, taking a (sloppy) fighting stance. Several other kids in the front row did the same. “Who are you?”

Spoiler sat down on a table Jason had stuck at the front of the room for no other reason than it seemed like a good place for it and started swinging her legs. “Spoiler. Fellow barely-trained crime fighting awesome person and former Robin. Don't worry though. After Batman fired me for doing almost nothing, I decided he was a jerk face. So he's not going to hear anything about Red Hood from me.”

“You didn't have any training?” Jason didn't catch who said that. It sounded like Christina, or maybe Noora. He was too busy trying to glare Spoiler out of his study room.

“Well, that's not super accurate. The community center near my house offered free Aikido lessons every second Wednesday, so I did that for a few years. And after a few years, I met the Birds of Prey, and Black Canary gave me some lessons.” An awe filled murmur swept through the room. Black Canary is a great fighter and everyone knew that. What most people didn't know is that she often beat Batman into the training mat. “Same for you guys? Not the Black Canary bit, the community center bit.”

Niko stood up, excited. “I take Tae Kwon Do every week!” Which, of course, started the kids shouting out their experience. Various martial arts, although not as much as Jason had hoped, a bunch of street fighting, one fencing. Most of the kids were silent though. Which meant most of them weren't trained at all.

Once they quieted down, Spoiler hopped off the table. “Awesome! Well, as someone who didn't see any good training for over a year into crime fighting, I can tell you without a doubt that it sucks. Heck, even with training it sucks.”

The kids didn't look happy. A few didn't look like they believed her.

“I mean, check this out.” Spoiler pulled off one of her gloves. Even from a few feet away, Jason could see how scarred her hands were. Particularly the backs of her fingers and nail beds. Like someone had ripped her finger nails out. She started going around the room, letting everyone see. The kids, already quiet, were completely silent. “There's people out there who don't care how old you are. If you get in their way, they will kill you. Some of them will torture you, just for funsies. Before Black Canary trained me, I almost died four times. After, it got worse. Because I had better training, so I could take bigger risks. And that's not even the worst part. There was a gang war in Gotham last year. Anyone remember that?”

The kids all nodded. It had been before Jason had arrived, but it had been massive and bloody. Steph tugged her shirt down, no longer looking the kids in the eyes. “It had been brewing for a while, but I set it off. Because I didn't know what I was doing. And then I got tortured, by Black Mask, so he could use the information I had to completely take over Gotham. And I almost died again.”

She tugged her glove back on. All of the kids were silent, watching her. “I was sixteen. Not even as old as this old man here.” She rapped Jason on his chest.

“I'm nineteen.”

“So ancient. It took me a year to recover enough, and I thought of quitting so many times. I still do. But this, this is addictive, like a drug. And it ruins families. My mom still thinks I'm dead. And I'm too much of a coward to quit, just like I'm too much of a coward to see my mom and explain.”

“If it's so bad,” Flora ventured, “why do you stay?”

Jason straightened from where he had been leaning on the table, taking a few steps forward. “Because it's all we know. When we were younger, we didn't have people to tell us that this was a terrible idea.”

“I did, but I didn't listen.”

“Ok, but I didn't. Actually, the person who should have told me encouraged me.” The kids nodded knowingly. Yeah, Batman had done nothing to dissuade Jason from being Robin. In fact, he'd adopted Jason with the express purpose of making him Robin. “So here I am, a vigilante of almost a decade, telling you that getting into this is a terrible idea.”

Steph hmm'd. “I don't know if we can count a few of those years. Considering you weren't actually _active_.” It was said in a whisper, thankfully.

He leaned in, whispering back. “Spoiler, if you wanna open that can of worms with me, go right ahead. I have been censoring ninety percent of my sense of humor for eight months and I am ready and raring to go.”

Emilio actually stood on his chair. “But we wanna make Bludhaven safer, better to live in!”

Thank you Emilio for that opening. “And there's plenty of ways to do that. I've got a few kids making hats and scarves to donate, so the homeless don't freeze in the winter. There's shelters, both animal and homeless, who could always use your help. And so much more.”

“Ok, that's how we can make the city better,” Petra said, “but it won't help me feel safer walking down the streets at night. It won't help the kids in my building whose parents beat them.”

“I know.” And thank you Petra, for _that_ opening. “That's what this building is for. On the other side of the lobby is a dojo. If you promise not to use anything you learn for crime fighting, I will be in there every day to teach self defense. Notice the wording on that. Self. Defense. For defending yourself. Not for attacking other people.” Most of the kids seemed excited at the idea, which was encouraging. He fully expected a few of them to break their promises, but hopefully it would be in one of those no-other-choice scenarios. “Secondly, the rest of the building is free housing for any and all street kids, or kids who are abused, or kids who just can't live at home anymore.”

That drew an explosion of cheers from most of the kids. It took five minutes for everyone to calm down enough for Jason to get a word in edgewise. “Just remember that living here isn't exactly legal, especially considering most of you aren't old enough to declare yourselves emancipated from your parents. I've paid off any city official who might care, but if you draw any attention to the building, it could get shut down.” Paying off the officials had been fun. He hadn't had a good excuse to use his disguise kit in well over six months.

Andreas nodded. “We'll be careful.” Everyone else in the room nodded too, even Spoiler.

“Awesome. One last thing.” He gestured to the room around him. “This is the study room. Anyone going to school who wants to volunteer to teach the kids who can't, this room is for that.” Because the kids who ran away from mentally, emotionally or physically abusive parents couldn't go back to school without risking getting taken back to their parents. The orphaned street kids should be able to use this place as a permanent address for registration, but at the same time, this building didn't really qualify as an orphanage. So it was iffy on that part. “That's everything. Anyone who wants more information on where to spend your volunteer hours, come to the front. I've got so many pamphlets.”

The next hour was spent answering questions. How would the housing work? Would there be meals as well? Would the kids be expected to clean? Kids would come in every day and sign in with the desk lady. If anyone was missing, Red Hood would go try and find them. There would be at least one meal a day, but whether there would be more really depended on how much drug money Red Hood had left. The common areas would be cleaned by a lady every day, but don't make a mess in them, and keep your own room tidy.

By the end of it all, most of Jason's pamphlets were gone, and most of the kids looked really happy. Excited. A few of them helped Jason and Stephanie stack chairs, then headed out to grab whatever they could from their parents house. Finally, it was just the two of them, leaning against the table at the front of the room. “Thanks for jumping in when you did.”

“Yeah. I was watching from across the street, and you looked like you were struggling.” Steph pointed at a restaurant that was indeed the perfect vantage point for this room. “I figured I'd come save your ass.”

“By breaking my window. You're going to pay for that by the way.”

“Sorry, dead girl doesn't have any money. Or a job.”

“Excuse you fake-dead girl, actual dead boy has lots of money. You have literally no excuse.”

“Doesn't change the fact that I cannot afford a new window.” Steph looked at the shards of glass still littering the floor. “Nor do I have the glass making expertise to make you a new one. I could maybe tape plastic wrap around it.”

“Nice try, but no.” Jason stalked over to a closet and grabbed a broom. “You're going to start by cleaning up the glass. Then, once a week, you're training the kids in whatever martial art you know.”

“Aikido and hitting people with bricks.”

“Good enough.” Jason went to the window and climbed out, being careful not to cut himself on the glass around the edges. “I'll call the contractors tomorrow, see what I can do about getting a new window in ASAP. When you're done sweeping, I have some leftover pizza at my place I'm willing to share. If you ask nicely.”

“Haha, no. I will however fight you for it. And win. And then eat the entire pizza.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “Really? Well then, you're going to have to hurry. Because I'm eating as soon as I get there.” And he pulled out his grapple and made his way to the top floor.

Stephanie ended up finishing within three minutes, getting upstairs just as Jason was finishing his second slice. And it was nice, being able to share a meal with someone in his apartment and not on a chilly rooftop.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering why Jason was so nervous this chapter, there's a few reasons. Robin training didn't really include public speaking, there's so many lives riding on him not screwing this up, and if he does poorly, he'll have no choice but to show them his autopsy scar, which he really doesn't want to do.
> 
> Sorry this was late by the by. I got a bit held up with Gen Batfam Week stuff. So look forward to that next week!


	11. Starburst Scar and Tea Top Treats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason tries (and kinda fails) to make a girl in hospital feel better. Then he joins an impromptu gathering.

Jason sat gingerly on the open window of room 403. It was late, and he really didn't want to wake anyone, but he also needed to know who it was who had called him. And there were four kids in this room. “Um.”

 

The kid closest to him opened her eyes, way too quickly for her to have actually been asleep. “She's over there,” she said with a wave at the curtained bed opposite to her. “Don't worry, she's not sleeping either. Her brother told her he'd called you.” She grabbed a book and booklight from her table and started reading.

 

Jason nodded a thank you as he stepped down into the room. His helmet made barely any noise as he placed it on the table. He rapped his knuckles on the wall next to her curtain, loud enough to be audible but not so loud as to wake anyone else. “Heather? It's Red. Can I come in?” When he got a yes, he pulled the curtains back and tugged a chair closer. “So, what's up?”

 

“There's a bunch of stuff wrong with my guts.” Heather had her legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. She'd had her head up when Jason had opened the curtain, but dropped it to her knees when she started talking. “The doctor said they were going to put in a colostomy bag tomorrow, just until they fixed it so I don't get more sick. But...” Heather grabbed her phone off of the bedside table, flicking through her gallery until she found the picture she was looking for. “All the websites say I'm going to get a really big scar. See?”

 

Jason did see. The one in the photo was a little larger than a Canadian toonie, and looked like a starburst. Honestly, Jason thought it looked cool, but with the way Heather was looking at it, he probably shouldn't say that. “That is pretty big,” he agreed instead.

 

She kept her chin propped up on her knees, holding her phone in both hands. “Mom said a girl's greatest treasure is her skin, and that if I don't take care of it, I'll never get a boyfriend. And in all the tv shows, the scarred girl usually ends up happy but alone, while the pretty skinned girl gets the guy.”

 

“Well, I can tell you your mom is wrong.” Jason waited until Heather lifted her head to look at him before continuing. “A girl's greatest treasure is her entire self. Your mind, your body, your heart. All of these are important. This surgery will keep you alive. And yeah, your skin is going to get a scar on it. I've got lots of scars, and they're not such a big deal.”

 

Heather looked thoughtful until the last sentence. Then she wrinkled her nose. “You're a _boy_. Scars are different for boys. You probably thought this looked cool.” She waved her phone with the colostomy scar at him.

 

“You caught me.” Jason chuckled lightly.

 

“On boys, scars are cool. Battle trophies, even if they got them in a hospital. On girls, scars are gross.”

 

“Hm. I may know someone who can help you with this. Mind if I text her?” She perked up a bit, and shook her head. Jason sat back in his chair and pulled out his phone. _Hey blondie. Need an assist._

 

 _Can it wait? I'm in the middle of a stakeout_.

 

_You don't need to rush over or anything. I just need you to talk to a kid. Also, have you ever had a boyfriend?_

 

_Wow. Thanks, I know my dating life is sad, you don't need to rub it in my face. And yes, I have._

 

Good enough. Jason got the same picture Heather had shown him off of the internet and texted it to her. Then he hit call.

 

Spoiler picked up on the first ring. “ _I told you I'm on stakeout!_ ”

 

“This won't take long Spoiler. Probably. Besides, stakeout is boring.” Jason shifted his phone to his other ear, missing whatever Stephanie said in response. “Yeah, yeah, I'll get you a motorcycle to make up for it. Here, talk to Heather. She's worried because she's getting a surgical scar in a bit and guys don't like girls with scars.”

 

The phone was halfway to Heather's ear when Steph shrieked, “ _WHAT?!_ ” It was loud enough that the girl on the bed opposite looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow. The next bit was quieter, but Jason could still hear every word from a few feet away. “ _Heather, right? Listen, I don't know what kind of guys you're thinking about, but if he's worth it, he won't care about the scars at all. My ex didn't give a crap about them, and trust me, I have a lot._ ”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“ _Oh yeah. There's this one here on my shoulder where some dude shot me, you can't see it, but it's really big. Never do your own stitches, they always end up messy._ ”

 

Heather laughed. “I'll keep it in mind. If he didn't care about the scars, why is he your ex?”

 

“ _Ah. I kind of faked my death for a while. He knows I'm alive, but we haven't gotten back together._ ”

 

“Just the one guy though,” Heather asked.

 

“ _Yeaaaah, crime fighting doesn't leave a lot of space for dating. Here, I've been keeping Oracle updated on your situation. She's dated lots more guys than I have._ ”

 

Jason jumped as a new voice entered the conversation. Babs. “ _And all of them were complete gentlemen about my scars. Of course, most of them were in our line of work. How about you Canary? Any troubles dating?_ ”

 

“ _None,_ ” came Black Canary's voice from yet another line. “ _Hi Heather. Like my two lovely ladies here, I usually date people in masks. However, I also go undercover a lot, which involves more than a little schmoozing with the opposite sex. And no matter how revealing the dress, they've never judged me on it._ ” She paused. “ _Except this one guy, but he was also smuggling women to be slaves in Kahndaq, so I wouldn't put too much weight on his opinion._ ”

 

Heather was starting to look a little hopeful. “Really?”

 

Barbara spoke again, a smile in her voice. “ _Really. Like Spoiler said, if he's really going to drop you because you have a scar, and a rather interesting one at that, then he's not worth it at all._ ”

 

“ _Yeah,_ ” Steph chimed in, “ _and it's not like our scars. When we get ours, it's normally a bad thing. Getting shot or stabbed or tortured. But your scar is saving your life! And that's really neat._ ”

 

“ _Totally cool_.” Dinah agreed. Then a loud crash sounded. “ _Whoops. That's our cue kiddo. Good luck on your surgery Heather!_ ”

 

Steph said something, not loud enough for Jason to hear. “ _Tell Hood when you get out of the hospital! I'll send you chocolates!_ ”

 

There was a sudden silence, then Babs said, “ _I was glad when I heard you were back Hood. Come visit me sometime._ ”And then the phone call cut out.

 

With a shaking hand, Heather handed his phone back. “Thanks Red.” She looked really tired.

 

“Anytime Heather. You know my number. You just focus on getting better, alright?” He ruffled her hair a bit. “Now get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

 

Heather laid back on her pillow. “I know. I just...”

 

“Hey.” Jason pulled the blankets up to her chin. “You don't have to like the scar. I don't like most of mine. But it'll be a part of you. And whomever you end up with should never judge any part of you, not ever. He doesn't like your hair, your weight, your makeup? Screw him. If this scar is saving your life, he should be grateful to it, for giving him the gift of you. If he's not, if he can't get over it, then he's gross. Not your scar.”

 

He didn't know if he had made much sense, but Heather smiled, and snuggled deeper under her blankets. She was asleep in moments.

 

Jason was halfway out the window when the girl in the other bed closed her book. “Thanks. She's been agonizing over that for a week now. And...” She tugged up her pant leg, showing a large scar that looked like a dog mauling. “Thanks for what you said. It was nice to hear.”

 

He smiled, and tugged on his helmet. “You're welcome. You get some sleep too.”

 

The girl nodded, and Jason grappled out the window, the only sign that he'd been there at all was the smiles on two young girls' faces.

 

* * *

 

The apartment was working better than he had hoped. So far, nearly fifty kids were living there, most of them coming in with the distinctive dirt coating that shouted 'street kid'. After a few showers and more than a few decent meals, they looked worlds better, though it would take a while for them to start gaining back the weight they had lost. A few more kids came in with the long sleeves and haunted looks of those who had been beaten at home, but Jason was seeing actual real smiles on their faces two weeks after he'd opened his doors.

 

All of the kids were wary, wondering when the rug would get pulled from under their feet, waiting for either a catch or for Red Hood to kick them all down, or for the police to come knocking. But Jason would keep the apartment open as long as he was able, free of charge, and he'd greased all the right palms. And even if an honest cop came through – and what were the chances, really, in Bludhaven – all he or she would see was a bunch of kids practicing some mixed martial arts.

 

Because, yes, he'd opened a dojo on the bottom floor. Again, free, to anyone who wanted to learn. He taught in the evenings, before he went on patrol, and had at least twenty people every night of the week. Not just kids either. The former prostitutes who cooked, cleaned and occasionally taught the kids were all taking lessons, and they'd told their friends about it as well. He was thinking of opening up a women's only course in the early afternoon.

 

The dojo was the only thing that had a catch. Anyone who was caught going out at night and vigilanting would be banned from lessons for a month. Most of the kids understood how important the lessons were, so none of them went out. Jason was teaching self defense only.

 

He'd just finished one lesson – the dojo's curtains were kept shut during lessons so Jason could teach without layers and layers of makeup – when he felt a small hand tug on his sweats. Tayt, age seven, had never called, but he'd sometimes landed on her roof and found her there. One week after she'd moved in, and her black eye was a patch of barely visible yellows around her eye. “Mr. Red? We wanna go have a tea party on the roof. But we have no cups.”

 

Caydie, eight, once called because she had been hungry, piped up. “Or tea.”

 

Jason thought. He had a lot of tea upstairs. No china though. “Do you care if you use mugs instead of tea cups?” The four girls and two boys who had gathered around him all shook their heads. “Alright then, what kind of tea do you want?”

 

That stumped them for a minute. They quickly rearranged themselves into a football huddle, Kaden accidentally smacking Natalia in the nose. There was a bunch of whispering and one not-so-whispered, “I like the fruit ones,” from Inna. Then they broke apart and faced Jason again.

 

“We decided on blueberry please,” Tayt said with all the solemnity the situation required.

 

Jason nodded, his mouth pressed in a grim line to try and hide a laugh. “I understand. Head upstairs, I'll get changed and meet you up there.”

 

The kids raced upstairs, Jason headed for a broom closet. The closet had a panel in the back that led to the back hallway, which was easy to see, and a roof panel that lead to the top floor, which was not. Since the elevator didn't stop at the top floor and the stairwell had no access, this was the only way to Jason's apartment without leaving the building.

 

Once he was changed out of his workout clothes (sweats and a comfortable long sleeved shirt), he put a kettle on and grabbed every mug he owned as well as his tea pot. He wrapped them and stuck them into a backpack along with jars of honey, brown and white sugar, a little thermos of cream and a tin of cookies he'd baked a few days ago. He slung it over his back, grabbed the whistling kettle off of the stove and dived out his window.

 

The kids were already set up. They'd brought up sixteen milk crates, as well as some cushions to make them comfy to sit on and a sheet that was functioning as a table cloth. Half of the crates were for the table, two by two by two, while the remaining eight were to sit on. Inna's stuffed bear took up one, six for six kids, leaving one extra.

 

The mystery of that one was revealed when Sanjeev patted the cushion on top. “Sit next to me Red!”

 

“Alright kiddo, just let me unpack.” He set his bag down, directing Kaden and Caydie to unwrap the mugs. While they did that, he poured the hot water into the pot and dropped three tea bags in. It was a big tea pot, enough to fill all their cups at least once. Then he set the kettle on the concrete edge of the roof and headed back to the table. The milk crate was obviously too short for him, folding his legs almost uncomfortably close to his chest.

 

Natalia lifted the top of the tea pot slightly. “I like mine a lighter colour Red. It tastes weird if you leave the bags in too long.”

 

“Alright.” Jason picked up the pot and poured her cup first. She smiled and wiggled happily in her seat, but waited until the tea had steeped a bit more so Jason could pour everyone else's. “What're these for?” He tapped a white circle of paper in front of where he was sitting, exactly like the ones in front of the kids.

 

Tayt carefully placed her filled mug on the circle. “It's like those little plate people have under tea cups. It was on tv all the time.”

 

“I see.” Jason moved his mug onto the circle. “Hm. There's quite a bit of extra space on these saucers.”

 

Sanjeev coloured a bit. “I did my best,” he muttered.

 

Jason ruffled his hair. “All good Sanjeev. But maybe we can find something to fill the space.” He reached into his bag and pulled out his cookie tin. The kids all gasped. “These should do.” He put two cookies on the edge of each saucer, including the one for Inna's bear.

 

“These're so good! These're what Grandma Squarepant's cookies taste like!” Kaden made happy noises as he chewed. He turned to Tayt on his left. “Didja ever see that one?”

 

Tayt shook her head. “I saw the one with the Flying Dutchman and the perfume department. I liked it.”

 

Natalia dipped a cookie into her tea. “I saw that one too. There's a bunch more. You should come over and we can watch and play.”

 

“Can I come?” Caydie asked, her mouth surrounded by cookie crumbs.

 

“Duh. You can all come!” Natalia grabbed a paper and pencil from her backpack. She almost always came to the study room after school to do her homework. “Here's my address. But we can meet here too and walk together.”

 

Jason let the conversation – moving from hanging out plans to favourite shows to best suppers – flow around him. He just sipped his tea and smiled.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brother has a colostomy scar. I've always thought it was the neatest thing ever. But then again, I've always been proud of my scars, telling people how I got this one or that one, or how I used to have one here but it faded. I'm probably weird.
> 
> Sorry this is so late by the way! I got caught up in Batfam Week, and then LIFE. Stupid life. Getting in the way. Anyways, to all the people silently freaking out that this would get dropped, worry not. It will not happen. My beta would kick my ass.


	12. Breakfast for One, Trigger Happy Chipmunk 2: Electric Butterflies, Plus Extra.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets questioned on his breakfast knowledge. Archie makes his not-so-dramatic return to Bludhaven. Some kids chat about the best day ever and the definition of "best".

“ _What do you know about breakfast?_ ”

“Um.” Jason shifted the phone so it was squished between his ear and his shoulder, using his freed hand to flip his egg in a frame over. “How do you mean? Like, the origins of the standard breakfast? Breakfast foods in different parts of the world?”

The kid on the other end choked on something, probably a juice box from the slurping a second ago. “ _What, no! I mean, kind of, yeah, but I can probably Google that. I mean can you make it?_ ”

Toast browned, eggs cooked, and Jason's breakfast went on a plate. “Yes.”

“ _Great. Because my sister texted me and she needs some help. It's our mom's birthday in the morning, and she really wants to make her breakfast in bed. But I'm living with Dad in Gotham, so I can't really get over there to help her._ ”

“Alright. Give her my number and tell her to call me. And could you text me her address?” Once he got it and said his goodbyes, he hung up, then sat down at his counter and started eating. He was using the last bit of bread to sop up the last bit of yolk when his phone rang again. “Red Hood delivery, from breakfast to bullets we've got what you need.”

“ _Hi. I'm Anani._ ” The voice was small, and very young sounding.

“Hey Anani. I heard you want to make your mom breakfast in bed.”

“ _Yup. But I can't cook._ ”

“That's why I'm here.” He popped his yolk-bread into his mouth and checked the time. “Ok, I need you to go to bed really early, even if you're not really tired, because you have to wake up early. Otherwise, we won't get breakfast done before your mom wakes up. What time does she normally wake up at?”

“ _Six. She says she likes an hour of coffee before she wakes me up for school._ ”

“Alright. I need you to set your alarm for five. Can you do that?”

“ _Yup!_ ”

“Awesome. One last question, and it's the most important. What do you want to make for your mom?”

There was a long pause. “ _Um. Bacon and fruit! And... Pancakes!_ ”

“Good choices.” Jason wrote that down on a notepad. “I'll see you at five then.”

“ _Bye!_ ” And she hung up.

Jason smiled and shook his head. He went out on patrol, threatened a few drug dealers who were hawking their wares just a _bit_ too close to a school, paid Marston a visit at his drive-through window, handed out sixteen hamburgers to a few homeless guys, then stopped by the grocery store. Jason grabbed what he needed, dropped a list of everything he had taken and a few hundred dollars on the counter and left. He knew they were hurting for business, so he liked to shop there when he could.

At 5:05, he knocked on Anani's window. She opened it up, yawning and rubbing at her eyes, her hair still messy from sleep. “Heya Red. Mornin'.”

He slipped into the room, closing the window behind him and tugging off his helmet. After a moment, he decided to stick it between his elbow and his ribs. “Good morning Anani. Ready to make some pancakes?”

That perked her up. “Yes!” She grabbed his free hand and tugged him towards the kitchen. It was small, but it had mixing bowls and a few frying pans, so there shouldn't be any problems. “What do we do?”

Jason put his helmet on the table, out of the way, then put his bag of groceries on the counter. He stuck the bacon in the fridge. “I brought some stuff, so we don't have to worry about messing up. There's plenty. We should do the fruit first, since it doesn't need to be hot.”

Anani was very insistent about being the one to cut the fruit, so Jason walked her through how to cut the mini watermelon into pieces, and how to take the rind off. He kept an eye on her as he washed the raspberries and blueberries, keeping some aside for the pancakes. Then he showed her how to do strawberries.

While she did that, he got out a mixing bowl and some measuring cups and started setting out the pancake ingredients. He set a recipe card next to the bowl, the first pancake recipe Alfred had walked him through.

When Anani's fruit salad was done, he put it in the fridge. Anani moved her stool from where she had been cutting fruit over to where Jason had set up the pancake bowl. “What now?”

“Now we start the pancakes. First, measure two cups of flour.”

Anani grabbed the one cup measure and shoved it in the flour bag. But when she pulled it out – heaped high with way too much flour – it slipped out of her hand and landed on the edge of the counter, bouncing off and clattering to the floor.

There was a second or two of silence, then Anani's lower lip started quivering. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll clean it up!” She scrambled off of her stool and ran for the closet. By the time she got back with a broom and dust pan, Jason had wiped all of the flour on the counter into the garbage, and was tapping her stool over the bin to get the flour off of that as well. When she started having trouble managing the broom, he took over.

When all of the flour was in a neat pile, he smiled at her. “Could you hold the dust pan for me Anani?”

“Yeah.” She crouched down behind the pan, expertly moving it so he could get all the flour into the pan. He was careful to sweep slowly, so he didn't sweep anything up into her face. “You're not mad?”

“Not at all. Accidents happen. And I told you, I brought lots.” When the pan was filled, he took it from her hands and dumped it. “Why?”

She chewed her lip a bit. “Daddy got mad when I made messes. He'd yell and say I was stupid and a bunch of other mean things.”

“Well, he was very wrong.” Jason sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You learned how to cut fruit really fast, and you didn't cut yourself once. I'm sure if you ask your mom and brother, they could tell you lots of other ways you're smart. But you want to know what's more important?”

“What?”

“You're kind. You wanted to do something nice for your mom's birthday and you got up really early so you could. And being kind will get you a lot more friends than being smart.”

She smiled a bit. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He poked her nose and she giggled. “Now come on, I'll help you measure the flour.”

Anani got back on her stool, and Jason guided her hand as she put the measuring cup back in the flour. With both of them holding it, it didn't fall once.

When the batter was all mixed and the fruit added, Jason turned on the stove. Anani made the pancakes while Jason did the bacon (“Bacon spits, and your pjs don't have sleeves.”) Then they put everything on a plate. Jason had brought a box from the grocery store, a flat one that used to carry plums, and they put everything on that like it was a tray.

Jason saw her to her mom's room, then put on his helmet and left out the window.

Before he went to sleep for the day, he texted Anani's brother about River Heights Apartments and Dojo. In case he wanted to get away for a while.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for all your help Raven.” Archie smiled, hefting his bag a little higher on his shoulder. The chipmunk chattered her own thanks from his shoulder.

Raven smiled at her former student, now a magician in his own right. “It was my pleasure Archie.” And it truly had been. The past few months of training had been difficult for Archie, due in part to the many bad habits his uncle had encouraged. The method he used to call the magic had been entirely wrong, and only learning offensive magic? That was no way for a young magician to develop. At least he had retained the basics from what his parents had taught him, or he would have been beyond hope. But here he was, not quite a master, but too good to be called her apprentice anymore. “Please feel free to stop by anytime you want.”

Cherry chattered at Raven, and Archie smiled. “We will. Thanks.”

Archie was about to get on the boat that would take him to the mainland – and from there to the airport, to catch a plane back to New York – when Gar flew down the hill as a peacock, turning back into a human when he landed. “Arch, buddy, are you sure you don't want to wait? The rest of the team should be back from space soon.” Cherry jumped on his shoulder, running around his neck twice in farewell before leaping back to Archie.

“Nah, I'm good. I can't keep eating your food.” Archie smiled at them. “Gotta make my own place in the world, you know?” Besides, there was nothing keeping him from visiting when the rest of the team came back. Raven had taught him this super cool teleport spell. It wiped out his magic for the rest of the day, but it was worth it to see old friends.

Not something he'd be using today though. Although maybe he should have. The boat ride was fine, as was the cab to the airport. But the five hour flight tired him out for some reason. And then he had to go on a train to get to Bludhaven, which was even more exhausting. Probably because of the invisibility spell he had to cast on Cherry so she wouldn't have to be in the cargo hold.

He got a hotel room using some of the money Robin had helped him siphon off of his uncle's accounts (“Hey, he never paid you. As far as either of us should be concerned, we're just taking what he owes you.”) The room was spacious and had a comfy bed, and most importantly, a view of the city's rooftops.

He waited until nightfall, then set himself up on his balcony with a bag of chips and a few strawberries for Cherry. Then he pulled out his phone and texted the number he'd been given months and months ago. Then settled in to wait.

While he waited, he practiced a few spells. Nothing fancy, but besides the teleportation spell, he didn't really know anything fancy. That hadn't been the point. Raven had taught him control, the basics of the spells he did want to learn, and had given him enough of a foundation so he could learn the fancy stuff from the books she had recommended. And just the few spells that he did know - mostly illusions and light constructs - made him feel so much closer to his parents.

He'd just sent a few glowing butterflies off of his balcony when a hand reached for one. It obliged, fluttering around the gloved fingers before floating towards the streets. Mr. Hood smiled at it from his perch on the balcony railing, then dropped down to sit next to Archie. His helmet went on the table. “Hey Archie. Long time no see. I see the magic lessons went well.”

Archie smiled at him, floating another butterfly his way. “They did! And Raven loaned me a few books so I can keep learning at home.”

Cherry abandoned her strawberries, leaping to the floor and running up Red Hood's leg until she reached his shoulder, chattering at him. Mr. Hood laughed. “Hey Cherry. How's my best gun doing?” He stroked her head, and she leaned into the gesture. “So, what're your plans now Archie? Archie the Amazing and his wonder-munk?”

“Nah, not good enough for a traveling show yet.” A few glowing butterflies did not a stage magician make. “In a few years, sure. But for now... school? My parents told me that magic was all well and good, but if I was going to have a magic show, I'd better learn how to balance my books.”

Red Hood nodded. “Wise people, your parents. There's a few schools in the area that aren't horrible that I can recommend. But if you don't want to stay in Bludhaven, I totally understand.”

“No, here's good.” Archie looked over the city, the city where his parents had stopped most frequently. A city in need of the hope and joy a little magic could bring. “But that's for later. What's up with you? Crime fighting going well?”

“Not a ton. Got beat up by Superman, the prick. Recovered from that, mostly. And now I'm back to blowing up warehouses full of drugs and shooting rapists where the sun don't shine.”

Archie nodded. He'd been following Red Hood's exploits as much as he could without the Titans finding out, and that pretty much tracked. “I'm surprised there's still crime in Bludhaven.”

“There's always that overconfident two bit thug who thinks he'll get away with it.”

“Tell me about it.” Archie groaned. “At least once a week, someone would start a crime spree in full view of the tower, then act all surprised when the Teen Titans showed up.”

“They never learn.” Picking Cherry off of his shoulder, Mr. Hood cradled her in his hands, still petting her. “The Titans let you go into battle with them?”

“No. I just followed them around and took videos. I have a whole Youtube channel dedicated to villains in shock when their plans get overturned.” His most popular video was of the Teen Titans landing behind Doctor Light, and as he turned around, Archie had edited in the first few seconds of 'Take on Me'. “They did ask me if I wanted to help out. I never want to throw a fireball again, but my illusion magic was good enough to be a distraction. But... nah. I've seen how addictive heroing can be, and if I do that, then I'll never be a magician.”

Mr. Hood smiled. “Good. It's not a life I'd want for anyone. Here, take Cherry a moment.” Chipmunk safe in Archie's hands, Mr. Hood grabbed a pen and paper from his pocket and jotted a few things down. “Here. Those are the schools I recommend, as well as a few places to stay if you need one. There's also a website that the kids in the city like to use. Password is my phone number, which I know you have. You can use it to ask for the particulars on the schools and housing.”

“Thanks!” He'd definitely check that out. Archie shoved the paper in his pocket, then watched as Mr. Hood stood up and stretched. “Mr. Hood, before you go, is there any way I can pay you back for what you did?” Because if it wasn't for Red Hood, he'd still be on his uncle's ship, lonely and hungry and going against everything his parents had taught him. Magic was for joy, not pain.

Mr. Hood hmmed as he thought. “When you're all finished with school, and ready to do magic – good magic, that helps people – I want to be in the audience of your first show.”

“But... that's not enough.” He owed Mr. Hood so much.

“It's more than enough kid.” Red Hood gave him a wave. “See you around.” And he dived off the balcony backwards.

Archie sighed, and conjured a few more butterflies to entertain Cherry. He'd think of something. But first he had to find a school to go to. He took his chips and Cherry's half eaten strawberries back inside, then booted up his laptop. Time to find out what was on the RedKids website.

 

* * *

 

 

Hella_Slay: Guys. Best day ever.

Hella_Slay: Well, it started as the worst day ever, but then it became the best day ever.

DaysRLong: oooh do tell

Ace_Of_Crochet: omg yes plz.

Hella_Slay: So you know how I've been

Hella_Slay: ...

Hella_Slay: not telling my parents I'm gay?

DaysRLong: oh no.

DaysRLong: did they find out?

Hella_Slay: Yeah.

Hella_Slay: I left my phone on the couch and mom read my texts.

Ace_Of_Crochet: the ones to your boyfriend?

Hella_Slay: Yeah.

Hella_Slay: It went about as good as I thought. Lots of yelling. Mom asked me how I could do this to them.

Rolling_Thunder: Like you had any choice in the matter.

Ace_Of_Crochet: exactly. hey rolling

Hella_Slay: Hey girl.

DaysRLong: hey girl hey. how goes

Rolling_Thunder: Hey guys. Goes pretty well. So how did you get from that to best day ever Slay?

Hella_Slay: Getting there. So Dad says I'm disowned, he hates me, wishes I were dead. He's getting all worked up about it too. Then he punches me.

DaysRLong: you need to update your definition of 'best' dude

Hella_Slay: Still getting there.

Hella_Slay: Anyways I'm on the ground, holding my face when

Ace_Of_Crochet: k, buddy, enough with the dramatic pauses

Hella_Slay: Red Hood breaks through my window.

DaysRLong: I LOVE THAT BEAUTIFUL MAN

Ace_Of_Crochet: FUCK YES

Rolling_Thunder: Cant say Im surprised. He has great timing.

Hella_Slay: Anyways, he punched Dad in the face, same place Dad hit me, then said

Hella_Slay: You have to decide what's more important to you. Your prejudice or your son.

Hella_Slay: Then he asked me if I was ok, and if I wanted to come with him. Of course, I said yes.

Ace_Of_Crochet: course

DaysRLong: id go with him in a heartbeat

Hella_Slay: Right? He carried me to River Heights, set me up in a room.

DaysRLong: carried you? I hate you so mcuh right now

Hella_Slay: His muscles are so tight.

Rolling_Thunder: Doesnt he wear body armor?

Hella_Slay: Not on his arms.

DaysRLong: hate

DaysRLong: you

Rolling_Thunder: So its the best day ever because Red Hood carried you across the city?

Hella_Slay: And he punched my dad.

Hella_Slay: It's weird cause I still love my dad and all, but seeing him get punched was so satisfying. Especially after all those years of listening to him say the homos are the spawn of Satan.

Ace_Of_Crochet: yea families are complicated

Rolling_Thunder: Well, Im glad youre ok. Just hope Red Hood doesnt get arrested for kidnapping.

Hella_Slay: It'll be hard to charge him for that if I'm still going to school.

Hella_Slay: Whoops. Gotta go guys.

Hella_Slay: I texted my boyfriend before I got online. He just texted back saying he's downstairs.

Ace_Of_Crochet: keep it clean boys

Ace_Of_Crochet: theres children all over this building

Hella_Slay: We will. He just wants to make sure I'm ok.

Hella_Slay: Night guys!

Ace_Of_Crochet: night

DaysRLong: niiiiiiiiiiiight

Rolling_Thunder: Goodnight Slay. Im glad youre ok.

_Hella_Slay has logged off_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Egg in a frame is when you cut a hole in bread and put it in the frying pan, and then crack an egg in it. My beta insists its actually called a toad in a hole, which is ridiculous. There aren't any amphibians anywhere near this breakfast food.
> 
> Archie might show up again in later chapters. But really, any of the kids could show up again in later chapters. It's a toss up.
> 
> So hey. Really sorry about the ridiculously long wait by the by. Between preparing for my first ever cosplay, Arrow's visit from the States, and general life, I had almost no time or energy to write. Good news though! Next chapter is mostly written! And massive. And hopefully exciting.


	13. Red, Red, and Blue and Invading Eggplants 3: Attack of the Killer Cell Phone!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason decides to engage in his new hobby. Steph tries (and fails) to get some sleep.

Crime was down in Bludhaven.

It was an odd phrase, one Red Hood had never thought he'd think, but it was true. Not just the crimes he normally attached a death sentence to, but other ones. Organized crime lost most of their money when Red Hood stole it. The drug trade in the city was dying, what with him blowing up all their product and stealing all their cash. Most of that money went to homeless shelters and rehabilitation centers, the honest ones, so there were fewer people on the streets absolutely desperate for food. Which meant robbery was down. Thanks to River Heights, gang activity and juvenile crime was down too. Since the mob was broke, they couldn't pay their bribes to the cops and judges, which meant some of these scumbags actually went to jail and stayed there.

He couldn't do everything of course. Arson and B&E were about the same as they've ever been. Unless it was a serial arsonist, which wasn't normally the case, all he could do was find the perpetrators and drop them off on the police's doorstep. And of course, the really corrupt cops would be corrupt no matter if they were getting paid or not. But things were better.

Even the kids were calling him less. Kind of. He still got tons of calls a day, but it was mostly just the kids wanting to tell him how their day went, or ask him baking advice, or how to deal with a bully. Their problems weren't any less, but they had started calling each other for help instead of him. He wholeheartedly approved. Chances are, he wouldn't be around forever, and if the kids in the city could be self-sustaining, then they'd be better off.

Of course, that meant he didn't have a lot to do.

Which meant he was bored.

So. _Bored_.

Good thing he had a new hobby he'd been meaning to get to. Namely: fucking with Black Mask.

Apparently, good ol' Roman had a shipment – some kind of weapon – coming in on the 2:40 Metropolis to Gotham. Well, a shipment that was for other people, but that Black Mask was going to steal. So Red Hood would steal it first.

When the train derailed and Black Mask's cronies ran forward to claim their prize, Red Hood struck. Most of them went down in seconds thanks to a combination of nerve strikes and tranq darts, and no one saw him. That was important. Batman would totally figure out that it had been him stealing the whatever-it-was, but Black Mask never could.

Within moments, it was just him, a bunch of unconscious False-Facers, and a train that had dug up half the countryside.

Or not.

It was pure instinct that made him duck. Good thing as it turned out. Someone kicked the train doors with what had to be superhuman strength. They flew over his head, landing somewhere around the unconscious thugs. Keeping low, he drew his guns, pointing them at whoever was in the train.

“Put your guns away, little one,” a deep, female voice said.

“Little one, eh?” Here's hoping that nickname didn't stick. “Who the hell are you?”

The woman finally stepped out of the train, and frickfrickfrick, it was an Amazon. An Amazon with a massive ax propped over one shoulder. “My name is Artemis.” Crap, he'd heard of her. Hadn't she been Wonder Woman once? “And if you don't stop pointing those things at me, I'll be the last woman you ever see.”

Great. How had Black Mask convinced her to guard his cargo?

Red Hood knew better than to attack her. He was good, but he was in no way prepared to take down an Amazon today. His tranq darts were good enough for humans, but he'd need rhino tranquilizer at the least to knock her out. Besides, she seemed like she had something more to say.

“I don't know who you are and I don't really care.” She swung her ax off of her shoulder in a wide arc, resting it on her other shoulder. “It's clear we both want the contents of this train. Flake off now, and I won't smack you around for making my job harder than it already was.”

Before Red Hood could reply, one of the Black Mask thugs he'd kicked in the head woke up, firing sloppily at him. Red Hood dodged, and Artemis used her ax to block.

Wait. If Black Mask's goons were firing on her, then...

“You don't work for Black Mask?”

“Of course I don't!” She nearly snarled out the words. Whoops. Red Hood hadn't meant to insult her.

“Awesome.” Red Hood aimed his tranq gun at the goon, nailing him in the neck. “I'll give you a hand then.”

“What.”

“I really don't care what's in here. But Blackie wants it, so I was going to steal it. But hey, if you want to take the credit, by all means.” Red Hood holstered his guns, since she'd taken such offense to them, and offered one hand. “I'm Red Hood. Truce?”

It was risky. If she attacked him, he wouldn't be anywhere near fast enough to counter. But when she grabbed his hand, she didn't throw him into a train car, so it was a well calculated risk. “Truce.”

“So what _is_ on that train?” Yeah, he'd said he hadn't cared. But the suspense, it was killing him. “All my intel told me was that it was a weapon of some kind.”

She pointed at the car the weapon was in, and he started following her. “It's called the Bow of Ra.” Ominous. “A weapon of incalculable power. An ancient artifact forged in the dark furnace of a black soul. It is the end of all this is or ever will be.”

She said that like she was reciting a textbook summary. “That's depressing.” And totally out of his pay grade. He was kind of glad Artemis had come around when she had. Come to think of it, “It's a bit out of Black Mask's area though. He's more 'crime boss' and less 'annihilation of life on Earth'.”

Artemis snorted, shoving at the train car doors. They seemed a bit jammed. “Perhaps you don't know him as well as-”

The sound of a helicopter cut her off. Before either of them could react, a magnetic clamp came down, attaching to the top of the container and lifting it. Then, a small army of False Facers (who had come from fricking nowhere), started firing on them.

“Crap!” He dived into another train car. They couldn't see him! If they did, Black Mask would go to Bludhaven, and that was a crapbasket Jason didn't want to deal with. Artemis was right behind him, although that was probably because she didn't want to get shot.

“You move fast little one.” She curled her lip in a bit of a sneer as she said it. Great, she thought he was a coward.

“I can't let them see me.” It was probably safe to tell her. It was probably well known in the hero community anyways, especially since Wally knew. “If he does, he'll come after me and that'll put every child in Bludhaven in danger.” She didn't comment, so he went back to the matter at hand. “Artemis, do you know how to fly? Because that's the only way we're getting up there.”

Artemis considered the steadily growing distance through a large hole in the car. “The power of flight eludes me for now, yes.” 'For now',' she says, like she'll get it later. “But if I am unencumbered, I can cover the distance in a single bound.”

“Awesome. Good for you. Wish you luck.” Red Hood had no doubt she'd get what she needed. She was an Amazon. So all that was left was for him to figure out how to get rid of the army outside without them see-

A hand closed around the collar of his jacket. “What are you-?”

She took a step forward and _flung_ him out of the train car, towards the helicopter. Red Hood barely caught the edge of the shipping container where Artemis had opened the door slightly. The impact wrenched his shoulder and it was all he could do to hold on. When he looked back, he saw her flying towards him, crashing through the door and nearly dislodging him.

When he'd pulled himself up, holding his injured shoulder, he sent her a glare she wouldn't be able to see through the helmet. “What was that for?!”

Artemis stood up from her landing crouch and grinned. “You offered me your assistance. I would be remiss if I left you behind, little one.”

“That-!” was actually good logic. But Jason didn't want to admit that. “You need to figure out a better way to treat your allies.”

Artemis snorted at that. “Is that what you think you are to me? An ally?” She squinted, trying to see despite the darkness. “That would be like a puma believing he was an ally because he was too slow to outrun a lion.”

“And your metaphors, too.” Red Hood turned on the night vision on his helmet. Artemis mumbled something behind him, but he was busy being stunned. “So. I've got good news and bad news. The good news is, it's pretty clear this wasn't the ancient weapon you're looking for.” It would have been so much easier if it had been. A weapon with world-annihilation powers would have been so much easier than this.

“That is good news.”

“The bad news is, if that's what I think it is, I'm definitely going to need your help.” He reached out and toggled a switch on the pod, lighting it up from the inside.

Artemis gasped. “By the gods. Is that... him?”

Red Hood ran an eye over the pod's occupant, looking for inconsistencies. “I don't think so. He has a scar going up into his hairline, barely visible, from that time he fought Doomsday.” After he'd gone to Metropolis to help Owen, Red Hood had done so much research on him. Good thing he was such a shutterbug.

“So...” Artemis ran through the possibilities in her head. “You're saying that's a clone?!”

“That's what I'm saying.” He reached out and placed one hand on the pod. “This crime lord just stole himself his own Superman.”

He remembered meeting Superman for the first time. He remembered Superman gouging an autograph into a piece of sheet metal with his finger. He remembered Superman throwing him across the city. Seeing him – or a close approximation of him – floating in this mystery liquid infuriated him.

The edges of his vision went green, and he didn't think it was because of the green lighting.

“-od! Red Hood!”

A hand jostled his shoulder and the green vanished. Well, some of the green. The Superman clone was still floating in green mystery liquid. “Sorry. My mind was... somewhere else.”

She smacked him. “ _This_ isn't enough to hold your interest?! I only came to Gotham to retrieve the Bow of Ra-”

“Yeah, you said.”

“-but even I know how apocalyptic it would be for a criminal mastermind to get his hands on,” she swept her arm out in a dramatic arc, “a Superman clone!”

Red Hood nodded. “Yeah. Sorry, you're right. We have to get him out of here.”

“Wait.” Artemis cocked her head, listening. A small gas canister dropped into the shipping container with them. Before Red Hood could react to that – kick it out, give her a rebreather, something – her hand closed on his jacket again, flinging him out into open air.

His landing was... rough. In fact, he was pretty sure his wrist was broken. And also a few ribs. But – either Artemis had fantastic aim or someone up there liked him (ha!) – he landed really close to where he had parked his motorbike, so he could patch himself up with the first aid kit he kept on it.

It would have to be a quick patch though. He needed to chase that helicopter. In fact, he should probably skip the patch job. If he lost the helicopter, who knew how long it would be before he'd find which building Black Mask had taken them to?

He was just revving up his bike for a chase when his phone rang. “Crap.”

 

* * *

 

Steph was trying to sleep. Which was a terrible idea. Firstly, she wasn't even in her bed. She was on the couch in the very nice apartment in the very nice building that Oracle owned that Oracle had been very nice to allow her to stay in. Just until she worked up the courage to tell her mom, “Surprise! I'm not dead!”

Which would, of course, be a false sentence once her mom got over her shock and killed her for lying to her for over a year.

It was a very nice apartment, and clearly no one would appreciate it as much as Steph would. Steph should probably go appreciate it from her bed, where a herd of sheep just waited to be counted. But it hurt too much to move. Which brought her to the second point in Steph's why-sleeping-is-a-terrible-idea-right-now list. She was still wearing all of her armor.

What? It had been a long and painful patrol and the thought of getting up and peeling the armor off of her sweaty, sticky skin was grossing her out. And also probably life threatening. Because then she'd have to shower, and she'd probably slip in the tub and kill herself she was so tired.

Ugh. But the idea of waking up after sleeping in her uniform, all gross and clammy was also grossing her out. Dilemmas were hard. She should just sit here and ignore the problem. Let tomorrow-Stephanie deal with it.

And then her phone started ringing. Which meant now-Stephanie had to get up to answer it, so she might as well also go shower.

“Uuuugggghhhhhhh.” The groan was drawn out, but was it _too_ drawn out? No. No, it wasn't. She picked up the phone and made a non-committal grunt into the headset. She'd meant for it to be a hello, but had given up halfway through the h, and whoever was on the other end would just have to deal with that. That's what they got for calling at three in the morning.

“Meet me on your roof.”

“Jason?” Besides the scar thing, he never called her. And if he needed help with a kid, she didn't think he'd sound so out of breath. “Why do you sound like you're dying?” Great choice of words Steph. “Wait, how do you know where I live?!”

Instead of answering any of her fantastic questions, he said, “Five minutes,” and hung up.

Rude!

She was very seriously considering ignoring him, but also, he didn't seem like the kind of guy to make demands of people he actually liked. Wait, did that mean he didn't like her? How could he not, she was a ray of sunshine and daisies and... she currently smelled like feet and dumpster. But he didn't know that!

Eventually, she decided, fuck it. She was standing now anyways. And maybe the not-so-fresh Gotham air would wake her up enough so she didn't kill herself trying the death-shower.

She had gotten to the elevator when she realized that she was still wearing her costume. Which was bad, and if Batman found out he'd give her a full hour lecture about places that are bad to walk around in full costume without her mask (everywhere), but screw it. No one in her building was up this late, and all the cameras were Oracle controlled. She'd be fiiiiiiiiiine.

She got upstairs a whole minute early. Whoot, go Steph! So she sat down on a vent and watched a helicopter go by. It was moving really slowly for some... what was that big rectangle thing dangling underneath it?

No time to ponder that as the distinctive whine of Jason's crappy grapple retracting reached her ears. All the latest grapple guns were nearly silent when retracting. Not so much when firing, but there wasn't much they could do about that.

Standing up off of her vent, she headed towards the side of the building she heard the sound coming from. “Jason, what the hell-?”

He came up fast and landed running. As he passed her, he tossed her something small and rectangular, that she only caught on reflex. “Take care of that for me!” And then he jumped off the roof.

She stood shocked for a moment, then looked down at what she'd caught.

It was the phone.

The.

Phone.

The one he used to answer the cries for help from hundreds of small children.

And he'd told her to take care of it.

_What did that mean?!_

Was she supposed to take messages? Make sure it didn't spontaneously combust? Actually help the kids? She knew what this phone meant to him and to the entire under-eighteen population of Bludhaven, _how did he think she was ready for this responsibility_?!

She was about to freak out verbally instead of just mentally when the phone rang. She dropped it, then shrieked quietly and retrieved it from the roof. Thanks to the nearly indestructible case, it wasn't damaged, but she still probably shouldn't drop it. She composed herself, then answered, “Hello, Red Hood's phone, Ste- Spoiler speaking.” She'd thought she'd composed herself. She'd thought wrong.

“ _Hiya. My name's Mindy._ ”

Maybe Mindy hadn't noticed her slip. “Hi Mindy, how can I help you today?” That's what Jason did, right?

“ _Don't worry about it, Red already walked me through my math problem._ ”

“Yeah, he does that.” She assumed. She didn't actually know how his math scores were.

Bruceman didn't exactly _talk_ about Jason, and when he did it was all. “I'm going to brood because my son is dead! Don't be reckless like he was Stephanie, blah blah blah! I'm a vampire!” Or something, she never really listened when he got mangsty. Regardless, he'd never mentioned how Jason had done in school.

“So, um. If Red helped you, why are you calling?”

“ _'Cause he asked me to call back in fifteen minutes and tell whoever picked up that he was doing a stealth thing and that he couldn't take his phone with him or he'd probably die. So you have to take care of it for him. And he says that yes, it means helping whoever calls._ ”

Ugh, she was so not ready for this responsibility. Why couldn't he have given her something easy to take care of while he was gone, like a plant, or a cache of nuclear weapons? “Awesome.”

Some of her tone must have leaked through the line because Mindy laughed. “ _Don't worry. It shouldn't be too much. I updated the banner on the website, so everyone should know by tomorrow what's up with Red. If you get any calls, they'll be emergencies._ ”

“I love you so much right now, you have no idea.”

“ _He also says he has some food in his fridge, if you want to crash at his place for a few days._ ”

Jason's cooking? Yes please!

Feet and dumpsters.

She'll head over tomorrow morning. “Thanks Mindy. You should get some sleep though, it's three in the morning, what's wrong with you?”

“ _Math project. Thirty percent of grade. I'm dyyyying._ ”

“If it's done go to sleep, what's wrong with you? If not, try and find an energy drink or something. Like, four energy drinks. I believe in you.”

“ _It's done, thanks to Red. Goodnight Ste-Spoiler!_ ”

Steph groaned. Batman was going to kill her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES! I am tackling RHATO Rebirth. Someone requested, so I have the no choice. Some of the dialogue has been lifted directly from the comic. Most of Artemis' has. But most of Jason's has been altered a bit, because AUs and things. I hope I did it justice.
> 
> Poor Steph. She just needs sleep.
> 
> The second half of this has been mostly edited. I would say it shouldn't take too much longer, buuuut. Clearly, my beta's school is full of sadists who pile her homework on higher than Everest.
> 
> Read and enjoy my peeps!


	14. Burnt Eggplants and Red, Red and Blue 2: Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph tries to handle the responsibility of being Red Hood's replacement. What the crap, she hasn't even gotten to the usual vigilante stuff yet, how is she this busy? Jason gets more than he bargains for when the Superman clone leaves his pod.

Steph glared at the wall. It shouldn't have been a wall. It should have been a doorway, a door to the top floor of the building. The elevator didn't climb that high, so she'd had to take the stairs, but now instead of a door there was a wall. She could see where the door _had_ been, a very slight buckling in the drywall, but unless she wanted to break the wall down, she wasn't getting through here. And she didn't think Jason would appreciate it if she broke the door down.

The question was, was she tired enough to not care? The answer was no. She'd gotten plenty of sleep last night. However, she was almost hungry enough. She had left her apartment as soon as she'd showered and ridden the Gotham-Bludhaven train to get here, and hadn't really stopped for breakfast. Since Jason had said he'd had food in the fridge, she'd figured she'd just eat when she got to it. She hadn't thought that Jason would make getting to his apartment impossible.

With a growl, she stomped away from the wall. The roof access door was unlocked and there was a number of decent grapple anchor points she could choose from. She rappelled down to one of Jason's windows, disarmed the security, and jimmied it open.

The food in his fridge was actual heaven. It was a leftover chicken stir fry, and while the veggies were a little floppy, the sauce more than made up for it. Watching it turn in the microwave was torture.

She'd just sat down on the couch with her second bowl of heaven on rice when the phone rang. And Steph froze.

It was the middle of the day! Well, it was four o'clock. But the point was, it was still very light out, what with the days getting longer and all, and would be for at least three more hours. Did Jason normally go out to help kids during the day? What was going on?

But she picked up the phone. She didn't have much of a choice. She'd already eaten the food. “Hello?”

“ _You're not Red. Who-_ ” There was a voice in the background and then a smacking sound. “ _Right. Sorry. He's 'unavailable' whatever that means. Do you know what that means?_ ”

“Sorry bud. Not a clue.” Maybe she wouldn't have to do anything. If the kid wanted Red Hood specifically, she could just sit here and finish her stir fry. “Did you need a hand with something?”

“ _Red was supposed to teach a class today. Do you know someone who can fill in?_ ”

“What kind of class?”

“ _Aikido, with some jiu jitsu thrown in. All self defense stuff._ ”

Dammit. She knew aikido, which meant she could help. She sighed, then went to find the plastic wrap. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“ _You might want to hurry. They're getting impatient._ ” And with that ominous warning, the boy hung up.

Her hoodie was probably good enough as a workout sweater, and with her mask on, it would help the kids identify her. Same shade of eggplant as her costume. She changed into some sweats and climbed back to the roof using the rope she hadn't bothered taking down.

When she finally got to the ground floor, she wasn't met with a class full of children like she'd been expecting. It was a class full of women, with ages ranging from eighteen to sixty. And they all looked at her like she was the devil incarnate. The one closest to the door slipped out of her yoga pose and stalked towards Steph. “Who the hell are you?”

Oh, this would be fun. “I'm Spoiler. You may have heard of me. Red Hood is out of town for,” frick, she didn't know how long he'd be gone, “some amount of time, so he asked me to fill in for him.” If throwing a phone at her head could be considered 'asking'.

The lady sneered, and was probably going to give Steph the verbal lashing of her life, but another lady stepped up behind her. One that looked vaguely familiar. “Chill Di. I recognize her. She and Hood are cool.”

Right, she'd been the one Hood had been talking to the first night she'd met him. Well, second, technically. First as Spoiler though. She gave the lady a nod of thanks, then strode to the front of the room. Dammit, she was nervous, and she kind of felt like she had to throw up a little, but she put on her best Cass imitation face and addressed the class. “I know I'm not Red Hood. But I've been training in aikido for years. If you want a full list of my credentials, I can give them to you. Honestly though, I'd like to not waste time talking and just get to telling you how to stop a guy from punching you.”

One lady raised her hand, but her neighbour elbowed her in the ribs.

The class went well, as far as these things go. Steph had a bit of trouble when she started them on easier stuff, but in her defense, she didn't know how far Jason had gotten with them. But at the end, the ladies were looking a lot less grumpy than they had when she'd first walked in, so win.

She was just about to head back up to the roof herself when a pack of children walked in. Actual, five to twelve year old children. “Seriously? How many classes does Hood teach?” Had she said that out loud? She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

The girl nearest to her, who had totally heard her say that out loud, grinned. “Three a night. The older kids are after us because they can stay up later.”

What? Hood, why? She was tired after one class. Teaching three, and then doing a full patrol? She was going to die of exhaustion before she'd crossed half the city.

Still, she had to try. These kids needed her to.

She focused more on moves that worked well against taller or stronger opponents. Ones she had learned as a ten year old at the Robbinson Community Center during the aikido lessons that some nice sensei was kind enough to offer for free once a month. Moves she'd learned from Tim, who had also been small and skinny. Moves she'd learned from the Birds, who were imposing but still smaller than most of the men they went up against.

Well, not all those moves, because they were a little advanced. But she taught them the groundwork for those moves.

The third class was indeed composed of teenagers. She taught them most of the same stuff she'd taught the little kids, because the basics never hurt anyone, and this was a good groundwork for them to know. As she'd thought though, she was really tired at the end and just kind of wanted to go upstairs and finish eating.

She did go upstairs, but she'd barely taken the plastic wrap off of her food when The Phone went off again. “Hello? Red Hood's phone, Spoiler speaking.”

“ _Hi. My friend and her sister are at it again. Could you come to the fourth floor of the apartment please?_ ”

Steph groaned and stuck her food back in the fridge. “On my way.” She hung up, then glared at The Phone, as if it was its fault she'd forgotten to ask what room number.

Turned out, she didn't need it. When the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, it was pretty obvious which room it was. The one where all the screaming and yelling were coming from. Good detective skills Steph, gold star.

“You're such a dumbass Ruby! Obviously, Star Wars is better!”

“You have no taste! If you did, you'd know that Star Trek was better and then you'd bask in my superior knowledge Alice!”

Oh great. One of those arguments. The ones that had dominated the nerd table at her high school. She'd thought she'd left them behind when she'd faked her death. Fantastic to know they'd followed her into her night life.

She knocked on the door, but she didn't think they'd heard her over the screaming. So she picked the lock. “Girls!”

Both girls froze, the last echoes of their yelling fading blissfully into the night. The cat let go of the older one's tongue first. “What do you want?”

“Well, firstly, it's the middle of the night and some people are trying to sleep.”

“It's not even eight you weirdo,” the younger one said.

“You live in a building full of kids under the age of ten. I'm pretty sure bed time is eight for them. And anyone older than that is probably trying to study.” That's probably what Steph would be doing if she wasn't busy being a vigilante. “Also, I am very hungry and you're cutting into my food time. So you're going to tell me what this argument's really about.”

Both girls started talking at the same time about how their respective show/movie was clearly better, but Steph cut them off.

“Yeah, yeah, Star Trek, Star Wars. Who cares? You're both old enough to realize that people can have different opinions about stuff.” The girls gave her blank looks. “Really? You haven't figured that out?”

“Of course we have. We were arguing about which is _objectively_ better.” The older one crossed her arms and glared at her sister. “I say Star Wars, Ruby thinks Star Trek.”

“You're both wrong, it's actually Farscape.” She hadn't actually watched Farscape, although Tim had been very into the show for about a month. But she'd only heard this argument resolved once at the nerd table, and the person who'd resolved it had claimed that Star Gate was better. “Alice, why do you think Star Wars is better? And don't mention stuff like 'plot' or 'characters'. Just in general.”

Alice thought for a minute. “The Empire is a lot scarier. It's this big unstoppable force of destruction and tyranny and it just feels like a bigger threat than the Romulans, or whoever, who don't even show up in most of the episodes. And it has the characters doing their best to stop the Empire, and banding a bunch of people and aliens from all walks of life together to do it, like how people today try and fight injustice. And it feels more fantastic to me, like I'm reading a Tolkein book or something.”

“Ruby, same question but with Star Trek.”

She'd clearly been thinking while her sister had been talking, because she spoke immediately. “It's all hope for the future. There's no hunger or starvation, and the entire premise of the show is peaceful exploration. It's something to strive for, not a generic rehashing of the past.”

“You-” Steph put her hand over Alice's mouth before the girl could start yelling again. For fairness, she also put one over Ruby's mouth.

“Ok. So. Star Wars is better because it's more familiar, like a fantasy book or like modern war. Star Trek is better because it's what humanity could be if we stopped fighting petty wars with each other. Great. That makes them a space fantasy and space drama respectively. Therefore, they're completely different genres and shouldn't be compared.” She removed her hands, placing them on the girls' arms instead. “Instead of yelling at each other about opinions that you're never going to change, you should either enjoy them separately, or share the things you love about Star Whichever with your sister. Ruby, have you ever seen Star Wars?”

The girl looked down at her shoes. “Only part of the first movie. I got bored, and then Alice got mad because I didn't finished it and then I just never did.”

Alice nodded. “Same here. I couldn't get through the first episode.”

“Rock, paper, scissors girls.” They both gave Steph weird looks, so she nodded at them. She would have given them a stern look, but she still had her mask on, so. That couldn't be done. “Now please.” They did, and Alice won. “Great. You're going to sit on that bed and watch the entire first Star Wars movie. Then, um, eight episodes of Star Trek, then the next Star Wars. And so on. And if you decide at the end that you really can't stand your sister's preference, then you will respect her opinion and never argue about it again. But, if you do end up liking it, then you'll have someone to nerd out with about your favourite thing.”

The sisters looked at each other, gave each other identical nervous grins, and bolted out from under Steph's hands. “I'll get the popcorn,” Alice called from the hallway.

“I'll get the laptop!” Ruby was digging under the bed, probably looking for a charge cord.

“And I will go eat my dinner. Let me know how your movie night goes!”

Back in Jason's apartment, she gleefully microwaved and dug into her food. And then put it back in the microwave because the chicken was still cold on the inside. When it was actually hot, she ate her fill, then scooted down on the couch to take a nap. Jason's city would be fine for a few hours.

Twenty minutes later, The Phone rang again.

 

* * *

 

 

Jason had fallen about eight blocks behind, but that was fine. And really impressive actually, considering at least two ribs were cracked. The point was, he was close enough to see when the helicopter landed on the top of Black Mask's financial district building.

Luckily, that was one of Gotham's oldest areas, and all the buildings were well over two hundred years old. They all shared that same gargoyles-and-black-marble aesthetic, which is probably why Black Mask had bought it (Bruce owned four buildings in the area), and more importantly, most of them had been designed by Adelbert Graf. Graf had been a brilliant architect with only one failing. Ventilation. The guy could not properly direct airflow to save his life. And instead of learning how to, he'd just made all the vents hugely massive. Quantity over quality and all that.

Bruce had remodeled his ventilation systems, so the vents were smaller, more efficient, and also covered in sensors and scanners. A person couldn't fit in there, but any hint of drone or chemical activity and there were vent covers that slammed shut until someone qualified could investigate the disturbance.

From the looks of things, Black Mask hadn't owned this building long enough to do the same. Jason laughed to himself as he looked up the purchase records. He'd bought this immediately after Red Hood had blown up his other office. Oh, he would enjoy that so much more if there weren't a Superman clone in need of liberating.

And so, back to business. He used another one of his phones to hack into the security system and shut part of it off. Specifically the part inside the vents. Black Mask hadn't had time to do a full remodel of the ventilation, but that didn't mean he hadn't put motion sensors in them.

The vents were big enough to fit Batman, something he'd taken advantage of very often, which meant that it was fairly roomy for Jason. He'd had more bulk when he'd first arrived in Bludhaven, but he would admit to letting himself slip. The two months stuck in a hospital bed with broken limbs hadn't helped. He was closer to Nightwing's physique now.

And it was time to stop thinking about those two because otherwise he'd make himself angry and do something stupid that would probably get him killed.

So he fit, and he knew how to move through vents without making noise, and he had his helmet to protect him from all the dust and crap he kicked up with every motion. When he finally got out of here, he was going to be the world's dustiest... what was he? Hero? Anti-hero? Just a vigilante? He'd figure it out later. Point was, everything would be super easy if his wrist wasn't broken. As it was, with one limb down he had to go a lot slower than he'd like.

Eventually, he reached a vent that, according to his stolen schematic – thank you Black Mask's terrible security – lead right to the lab. Unfortunately, it was a straight vertical drop, for three stories, and his grapple wasn't exactly silent. Crap.

He grabbed a spare grapple cable from his pocket and attached it to a hook. Then – after making sure it was attached securely – he tossed it down the shaft. And started climbing.

By the time he'd gotten to the bottom, Black Mask's goons had moved the Superman clone from the pod to a big globe thing. But the room was oddly empty. Carefully disabling the cameras in the room, including three running on a separate network than the others, Red Hood jumped down into the room and walked up to the globe.

He knocked lightly on the glass. “Don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to get you out, ok?” Was it his imagination, or did the clone move a bit? Nope, not his imagination. The clone's eyes fluttered open slightly. “It'll be ok, big guy. Trust me.”

A shout from the other room had Jason tearing back to the vent and scrambling up his rope in record time. The vent cover slid back in place just as a tech raced into the room to check readings. “He's awake! Quick, get Black Mask!”

Within minutes, the entire room was flooded with scientists and lab techs and random thugs and Black Mask himself. “How is he awake? He wasn't supposed to wake up for another twenty four hours!”

“We don't know sir!”

Jason, in the vents, was busy editing the time stamp on some footage so no one would notice he'd turned off the cameras. He'd just finished looping it in when Black Mask ordered a goon to check the cameras. When the goon came back with another undesirable answer, Black Mask growled, “Useless idiots.” He took a deep breath. “You, start draining the biochamber. If he's awake, we need to take advantage of it.”

The scientist he'd pointed at did just that. In the chamber, the clone was looking around, sleepy and confused. But when the liquid started draining out the bottom, exposing his head to air for what had to be the first time, his hands flew up to his throat.

And suddenly, Jason was underwater. Everything was green and everything hurt and he couldn't breathe and he had to get out, had to get up, but he couldn't find up and he couldn't _breathe_ and -

The shattering of glass didn't have any place in his memories, and Jason found himself in the vent again. He gulped down huge breaths of air, trying to keep silent, almost failing. When he'd calmed himself down, he chanced a glance through the vent cover again.

The clone had broken out of his chamber, and his skin had turned a sickly shade of white. Black Mask's goons roughly lifted him onto a gurney and strapped him down, wheeling him out of the room.

Jason knew he'd be able to find the clone again later, so he climbed back up his cable and made his way to a more abandoned part of the building. Once he was out of the vent (otherwise the sound would echo throughout the building), he slammed his fist against a wall. “Dammit!”

And again.

It had been a solid year since his last fucking PTSD fucking flashback what the, “Fucking dammit!” His fist collided with the wall again, this time accompanied by a cracking sound.

With more curses silent on his tongue, he slid down the wall to sit on the floor and pulled off his glove. Yup. He'd cracked that knuckle. Again. His mind flashed back to the last time he'd beaten up a wall. He'd cracked a knuckle then too, and the only reason it had healed as well as it did was because the kids of Bludhaven hadn't let him forget that he'd broken it.

Flipping over his hand, he examined the thin strips of white adorning his fingertips. The Lazarus Pit was supposed to be a cure-all, with short term insanity being the only downside. It just figured that it wouldn't work right for him. Didn't fix all his hurts, and he could still feel the green of the Pit pushing at his mind, trying to take over and let him lose control.

Well. That wasn't happening. So enough sitting here, feeling sorry for himself and whining about things he couldn't change. But he could change the state of the clone's captivity, so he was going to go do that. And he had to find Artemis. She'd only gotten gassed because she'd been busy throwing him out of the helicopter. He had to find her and figure out whether he wanted to thank her or shoot her for that.

So he crawled back into the vent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may have told some people that there would be lots of Bizarro this chapter. I was confused. I meant next chapter. But I can guarantee*, he's awesome.
> 
> *no actual guarantee, just opinions
> 
> I couldn't resist a bit of angst near the end there, but hey, that happened in the comic too. Things are a bit happier next time. Read and enjoy friends~


	15. Red, Red and Blue 3: Cold Confrontation and Eggplants 4: Invasion of the Silent Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason, Bizarro and Artemis have a chat. Steph ends a long day with a surprise. Then some not-yet-Outlaws go out for food.

Jason had spent most of the night crawling around the vents, looking for information. He'd found Black Mask's secondary server room pretty quick, and downloaded all that he could from there. He'd go through the data later when he had more time. And of course, he still had to find the primary server room, the one with all the good info.

He crawled back to the cells fairly often. Luckily, Artemis and the clone were in the same room. Well, Artemis and Bizarro. Calling him 'the clone' all the time was rude, although giving him the name of another Superman clone was probably ruder. Still, Jason had to call him something. Then again, Jason knew at least three guys named Jason who were in this hero business. Either way, the cells were very heavily guarded, and with a set of cameras on a completely different circuit than the others, one Jason couldn't access remotely. So, once he set his charges and downloaded what he'd needed, he started looking for an access point.

It took him a few hours, but eventually he found one. In the very guarded security room. He sighed and started back towards the cells, luckily fairly close to the security room. He parked himself in the vent leading to Artemis's cell and whispered, “Pst, Artemis!”

She didn't look at him, but she did twitch slightly when his voice reached her. She waited a minute, then stalked over to her cot and laid down, facing the wall, with one hand under her head and one up near her mouth. It was a natural enough pose, and it allowed her to speak without the cameras noticing.

“What do you want Red Hood?”

She sounded annoyed. He grinned. “Not much. Trying to engineer a prison break.”

“Don't bother. I'm staying until I can figure out where Black Mask put the Bow of Ra.” She curled her legs up just a bit. “A weapon of that magnitude should never be in the hands of scum like him.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, neither should you or Bizarro.”

“Who?”

“Big guy over there. Apparently, there was another clone of Superman, and his name was Bizarro. Well, there were three Bizarros. Two were clones, and the last was made by a guy with fifth dimension powers who wanted his own Superman. The first two died, and the not-clone is living in space and very happy. I assume, I haven't actually asked him.” Jason snuck a peek at the big guy. He seemed unhappy, but who wouldn't be in his position? Black Mask had chained him to the wall, then stuck a thing on his head that kept him from blinking. He'd probably been watching Superman's Greatest Hits since Maskie had put him down here eight hours ago.

As he watched, Bizarro lifted one arm to his chest, and the other above his head. “Pup pup 'way!"

Artemis snorted. “You shouldn't name the creature. It is a monster and should be put down when we have the chance.”

Wrong thing to say. Bizarro twitched violently, super strong eyelids breaking the contraption keeping them open. “Me am not monster!” Another twitch – something a human would do if they were shooing away a fly – and his chains flew off. “Me am not Superman!” He punched the television in front of him, embedding it in the wall. “Me am Bizarro!” As he stood and turned, his eyes glowing blue. He walked through the glass wall of his cell like it was tissue paper.

“Oh great. He likes it.” Artemis was on her feet now, had been since Bizarro had spoken. She stood in the middle of her cell, ready to defend if need be.

The temperature dropped at least twenty degrees as Bizarro shot a beam of ice from his eyes around the room. Including – Jason was pleased to see – at the cameras. All the cameras. That was his cue. He backed out of the vent, crawling into one that would get him into the main hall. In what was probably the dumbest idea he'd ever had, he stood in front of the door, waved his arms and called, “Over here!”

He just barely dodged the resulting wall of ice that Bizarro sent his way. The door, being a static object, was not as lucky and found itself frozen shut. Jason grinned behind his helmet. Now Black Mask's goons couldn't interrupt.

Bizarro turned to face him, but Jason tugged off his helmet, tossed it to the ground and held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Hold it! I don't want to hurt you Bizarro!” He was literally cornered, jammed between Artemis's cell and a wall of ice. From the corner of his eye, he could see Artemis summon her axe. If Bizarro decided he didn't like him, well. Red Hood on Ice. Except with fewer skates and musical numbers, and more frozen death.

But he hesitated, just long enough for Jason to keep talking. “I know you're not a monster. Monsters are horrible. They hurt people without a second thought. They scheme and maim and kill. But you're not. You've never hurt anyone in your life.” He hadn't had much time to, but Jason wasn't going to mention that. Not when he was trusting the big guy to not freeze him to death.

The frosty glow around Bizarro's eyes died a little. That was encouraging. “And I know you're not Superman. Superman is the most heroic person ever. So good it makes you want to gag a little. And I'm pretty sure no one but him can be that good. But you're not him. You're you. And that's a lot better.”

“Bizarro am Bizarro.”

“Exactly.” Slowly, so Bizarro could see him moving, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a stuffed toy. A little Superman one that he'd picked up months and months ago. Since getting tossed around the city, none of the kids he'd given toys to had wanted it. The bears and hippos and giraffes, he was out of. But he hadn't wanted to leave the little guy at his apartment. He had a good face. So Jason had taken the toy along with him, on the off chance some forgiving kid would want him. “You know what Superman is good for though? He's a really good listener. You are too, I'd bet.”

“Bizarro am. Bizarro hears lots. Bizarro can hear Red Him and Red Her's hearts.” Bizarro was staring at the toy in Jason's hand. “Pup Pup a good listener too?”

“Yeah, he is.” Jason held the toy up a bit, so it was face-to-face with Bizarro. “Why don't you tell him why you're so mad?” It was something that had worked for some of the kids sometimes. They couldn't tell their moms or dads or even Red Hood why they were upset. They didn't want to be judged about it. But they could tell their favourite stuffed toy. Jason had tried it a time or two himself, talking to the helmet Alice had drawn on. It had helped more than it had any business to.

Bizarro took his suggestion seriously, looking Pup Pup in the black plastic eyes and saying, “Mad? Me not mad. Me am sad. Everyone thought me Superman. But me am not. Me am Bizarro.” He sighed, and his eyebrows tilted up a bit. “Me am... alone.”

Jason knew the feeling. “You're not alone Bizarro. If you want, I can be your friend. So can she.” Jason tilted his head at Artemis in the cell.

“Red Her?”

“Yeah.” Jason smiled at Bizarro, ignoring the death glare Artemis was sending him for volunteering her for this. “Go on, say hello. That's how most friendships start.”

Bizarro turned to Artemis, who had the sense to take most of the outrage off of her face before he could see. “Hello, Red Her.”

“Yeah.” Her axe vanished, and she seemed uncomfortable, but not completely opposed to the idea. “Um. Hi.”

Bizarro looked at her with a big, goofy grin. She smiled back.

A thud from the door broke the moment. Black Mask's goons were trying to break down the door and not having much luck, thanks to the wall of ice covering it. It wouldn't hold forever though. “I've got to go Bizarro. I'll be nearby, but no one can know I'm here.”

“Red Him am secret?”

“Yup. Very secret. So you can't tell anyone, alright?” Bizarro nodded. “Here.” Jason reached forward and tucked Pup Pup into the front pocket of Bizarro's overalls, deep enough that no one would see him. “Pup Pup will stay with you. Keep him safe, alright?”

Bizarro patted the pocket of his overalls, making sure Pup Pup was secure. “Bizarro will.”

“I know buddy.” Jason scooped his helmet up off of the ground and put it back on his head. Then he crawled back into the vent and disappeared.

 

* * *

 

Stephanie fell onto Jason's couch, exhausted. She had no clue how he did... any of this. Yeah, fighting crime was crazy hard and it wiped her out, but also there was normally time to sit with Tim or Cass and just chill. Sit on a rooftop and look at all the crazy shirts people were wearing, or eat Korean tacos from that one food truck that was slowly moving away from Robinson Park.

But no! There was no time! Steph had spent all evening running from one fire to another. Jim had lost his truck and now his dolls couldn't go to the beach and fight dragons, so she'd had to find it. Then, on her way back, she'd stopped four muggings, and then been called out again to help Dorothy pick out a tie to wear to her concert tomorrow. She'd gotten about twenty minutes to herself, which she'd used to wolf down more food because it had been at least six hours since she'd eaten and she was _hungry_. She'd had to eat her noodles cold, and yet they'd still been delicious.

Thankfully, her last caller had told her that they tried not to call Red Hood between six a.m. and two p.m., because he was normally asleep then and really grumpy if they did wake him. Which meant she had eight hours to herself.

She was just about to drag the couch blanket over herself, making a nice little Stepharrito (like a Steph burrito, shut up she was too tired to make good jokes), when a knock sounded on the window.

Probably a bird. Jason kept his windows unnaturally clean, so birds probably ran into them all the time. But then another knock sounded, this time to the beat of We Will Rock You. Birds didn't normally run into windows to We Will Rock You. Then again, stranger things had happened. With a groan, Steph lifted her head. “Cass?”

Outside the window, Batgirl waved, her mask crinkling like it did when she smiled. She was perched on the ledge, using her grapple to hold herself up. Steph smiled and bounced up (sort of bounced. She was sore and tired. Her bounce was probably like how a slightly-deflated basketball bounces) to get to the window.

Wait. This wasn't her apartment.

“Cass, you can't be here!” She opened the window, but didn't move out of the way. “Wait, how did you find me anyways?” She'd told Barbara that she'd be out of town for a bit, but she hadn't said where she'd been going. Not that that would stop Babs from finding out if she needed to, but she normally let Steph have her privacy. She was cool like that, unlike a brooding, bat-eared someone she could mention.

“Oracle.” Never mind, she wasn't cool. “You missed our patrol, and I got worried.”

“Our...” Crap. Right, today was Tuesday. Well, technically yesterday had been Tuesday, but they normally spent Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning patrolling together. Tuesdays were the least busy day of the week, for some reason, so they had more time to hang out and goof off than they did on, say, Friday. “Sorry Cass, I totally forgot.”

“It's cool.” Cass poked her leg in between Steph and the edge of the window. “It happens.”

“It does indeed. But seriously, Cass, you can't come in.” Steph poked at Cass' leg until she withdrew it a bit.

“Why?”

“It's not my apartment and inviting someone into someone else's apartment is super rude!” Of course, she and Cass entered other people's apartments all the time without asking for permission. Double standards, a staple in Gotham vigilante arsenal, right next to grapple guns. “Besides, Red Hood kind of hates Batman. A lot. He might not like it if he comes home and you're wearing a Batsymbol in his living room.”

Cass frowned, then nodded. Her grapple made a barely audible whir as she ascended to the roof.

Steph sighed. She didn't want to turn Cass away, but Jason really wouldn't be thrilled if Batgirl was curled up on his couch when he got home. She'd just have to make it up to her. Maybe a movie marathon, or they could sneak into a elementary school dance recital. Those were always fun. Cass said that even though children weren't the best dancers, they usually put their all into it and were so happy when they danced.

She'd just flopped back onto the couch when the window slid open again. Without waiting for permission, Cass – not wearing her cowl, belt or cape – walked over to Jason's room. After a moment, she emerged wearing a hoodie over her costume. “There. No more bat. Can we watch movies now?”

“There's still the problem of it being really rude to go into people's places without asking Cass.” Jason trusted her and she didn't want to blow this. Not until she'd finished forming her own opinion about him. Or until she'd gotten his stir fry recipe off of him. Whichever came first.

But Cass had her stubborn face on. The one she always got always, the one that looked like her regular face. That stubborn face. “Don't worry. I'll take care of it.” And then she grabbed Steph, shoved her into a sitting position, and grabbed a stack of movies from her bag. Her bag which also had the rest of her costume in it. “Pick one.”

Steph rolled her eyes across the titles, poking her finger at the Disney one.

She fell asleep on the couch, huddled under the quilt Cass had dragged from a nearby closet, to the crab singing about how awesome he was. And woke up when The Phone rang. Again.

 

* * *

 

 

Artemis glared at the clone in front of her. Ever since the little one had dropped out of the vent, the monster had been the picture of good behaviour. 'Bizarro,' she supposed she should call him. If she wanted to avoid another rampage at least.

When Black Mask's help had finally broken down the door and seen Bizarro being completely calm, they had been wary but unwilling to provoke him. So they'd refastened the chains and replaced the television, but had left the contraption they'd put on his eyes off. Which meant that the video clips of Superman being heroic were being ignored.

Instead, Bizarro had taken to watching the walls. His head moved slowly around the room, sometimes rising or dropping quickly. It did not take a genius to figure out that he was watching Red Hood as he made his way through the building.

“Bizarro,” she said, quieter than a whisper. “Do not watch him. You will give away his position.”

Bizarro jumped slightly. Ducking his head, he said, “Me am sorry, Red Her.” He gave the television the briefest of glances, then turned back to Artemis.

Her eye twitched under the scrutiny, but she ignored him. If Red Hood hadn't whispered, “I'll be back after I find out where Black Mask put your bow,” before leaving, she would have gone into the vents herself. But if she did, then Black Mask would start looking for her, and they might find Red Hood. She didn't much care, except for one thing.

“ _If he does, he'll come after me and that'll put every child in Bludhaven in danger._ ”

An odd claim coming from someone who was known nation wide as a vigilante who put down his opponents instead of locking them up. Artemis did not follow the news and even she had heard of him. Perhaps he had simply said it to trick Artemis into helping him. He had seemed sincere, but it was hard to tell with the helmet. Perhaps he had been honest. Regardless, she would be getting answers out of him once this was over.

Bizarro was no longer staring at Artemis, which was a welcome change. Instead, he was nodding and smiling. It looked like he was listening to something. When he gasped out loud, Artemis narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Red Him tell Bizarro a story.” The clone pointed at the northwest corner of the room, likely where Red Hood was. “He and Batman and Rope Lady at Superman's house. They save Superman from evil plant.”

Artemis glanced in the direction Bizarro had pointed. If Red Hood wanted to get himself caught telling stories to a monster, that was his problem. “Face the television while you listen.” If Black Mask were watching, he might think that Bizarro was reacting to Superman fight crime. Unlikely. Black Mask seemed much smarter than that. But it would at least provide reasonable doubt.

Bizarro obeyed, turning to the screen just in time to see Superman punch some hairy beast into the atmosphere. He grinned wide and clapped his hands. “Red Him used the evil plant on bad man!” Hm. That might work after all.

“Fascinating.” It wasn't. Inventing stories wherein the storyteller went on an adventure with the three biggest heroes in the League was very common, especially amongst heroes with small followings and large egos. Her brief time in the League had taught her that. Booster Gold had been the largest offender.

But something about the story seemed... familiar. Like hearing the plot of a novel she'd read years and years ago. “Bizarro, why did they go to Superman's house?”

“It were Superman's birthday. Batman and Rope Lady brought presents!” Bizarro cheered at the screen, then turned to face Artemis. “Does Bizarro have a birthday?”

“Ask Red Hood,” she whispered, knowing he would hear but not wanting the thawed microphones to pick it up. It was probably his creation day, which she had no way of finding out. But it could also be today, as today was the day he'd woken up out of his pod. And she did not want to get involved in another potential super tantrum because she hadn't brought presents. “What sort of presents?”

“Hmm...” The clone turned back to his screen, now showing Superman putting the globe back on top of the Daily Planet building. “Batman gave a flower. But it got squished.” There was a moment of silence as Bizarro grieved the flower. “Rope Lady brought a tiny city. It not squished!” He smiled as Superman got punched in the face by Doomsday.

“I see.” She _had_ heard this story. Diana had told her, years ago, during a sparring session. She had meant it as a lesson that force would not solve every problem. But it had been her, Batman and Robin in Superman's fortress that day, and it had been Robin who had dropped the Black Mercy on Mongul. Not Red Hood. Unless-

A tap against the vent cover interrupted her thought. She would get back to it later, when she had time. “Well?”

“Got it! It'll take a while to sift through everything, but it's all on here.” Through the slats in the vent, she could see Red Hood's helmet, as well as a brief flash as he waved something small and metal. A flash drive possibly. “We should probably get out of here.”

“Indeed we should.” Artemis stood up and summoned her axe. It was a satisfying moment when she swung it through the glass that had been blocking her in. “Bizarro. The cameras please.”

Bizarro blinked four times, and all four cameras in the room were covered in ice again. There was a loud clang as Red Hood kicked the vent cover off and a barely perceptible thud as he landed on the floor. “Shortest way out is that way buddy. Just go through the walls, Blackie won't mind.” He gestured vaguely at the east wall.

The clone was eager to follow his advice. Artemis followed through the holes he had made and noted with approval that every camera they encountered was frozen. Every goon met a similar fate. Red Hood came up close behind her, only slowing to grab a laptop from a nearby table.

When they finally encountered open air, Artemis grinned and basked in what little pre-dawn sun there was. It was a welcome difference from the gloom of Black Mask's tower.

Artemis was of the opinion that they should use the laptop and flash drive immediately so she could find the Bow, but Red Hood said that they needed to be further from Black Mask's lair before doing so. It was a good idea, but Red Hood insisting that he go back to the very eastern point of the city for his motorcycle was not. It had been an especially bad idea when Bizarro had tired of their arguing, picked both of them up and flew them to where Red Hood's motorcycle lay hidden behind a bush.

She was one minor annoyance from using Mistress to chop both of their heads off. “The data, Red Hood?”

“Yeah yeah. I'm looking.” He sat on the back of his motorcycle and flipped open the laptop. “First I have to wipe this hard drive. I don't want Mask to have had any sort of tracking software on here.” After clicking a few keys, he groaned. And then his stomach growled. Loudly. “Ah. Ok, so this is going to take forever. Also, I haven't eaten in... 30 hours? Somewhere in there. Artemis, if I keep working on this, will you drive us to this address?” He tapped an address into a GPS and mounted it on the motorcycle's handle bars.

She peered at the location. It was in Bludhaven. Not too far. “Very well. I assume this is your home?”

“We go to Red Him's house?” Bizarro looked very happy at the prospect.

“Hm?” Red Hood looked up from his screen, then back down. “No. I mean, maybe, later you guys can come over. Maybe. This is a restaurant. Best potstickers in Blud. Speaking of.” He picked up his phone, called someone, then shoved it between his shoulder and helmet. “Heya, it's Red Hood. I know it's early Jia, sorry. Is it cool if I come over in an hour? Awesome. I'm bringing friends, and they probably have big appetites. Big tip, you bet. Alright. See you then Jia.” He hung up, tucked his phone away and then settled himself more stably on the bike. And then he looked up at Artemis. “Should we get going?”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Very well. But if this is a trap, it shall end badly for you.” She straddled the bike and kicked up the stand. She didn't have much experience with these, but she could drive.

“Well aware. Bizarro, you wanna go eat some Chinese food?”

“Bizarro very hungry!” Bizarro floated up behind the bike and grabbed onto the seat, putting his other hand on Red Hood's shoulder. Keeping him from falling off. Good. Artemis had been wondering if Red Hood had been intending to stay seated by the strength of his leg muscles alone.

She roared off towards Bludhaven, Red Hood typing behind her, Bizarro being pulled contentedly along behind them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter titles are long, and sound like a fifties horror flick. I love it. In other news, this was supposed to be one chapter, but got split into two because it was ~8000 words long. That'll be out in a few days, barring brain glitches in which I feel the need to rewrite the entire thing. 
> 
> Read and enjoy my peeps! Loxie out!


	16. The second part of Chapter 15. Just pretend I made up a fancy title.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of food. That's about it.

“What do you mean breakfast?”

Cass woke up to the movie still playing and Steph talking into the phone. She looked like she was about to cry. “Yeah, of course he does. ... No, I'll be down in ten. First floor, left of the elevators. Got it.”

“What?”

Steph jumped at Cass' question. “Sorry Cass. Didn't mean to wake you. Apparently Red Hood helps the kitchen with breakfast before he goes to bed. The lady said I didn't need to go, but he trusted me with this.” She stood up. Wobbled. Fell back down on the couch.

“No. You're too tired. Go to bed.” Cass threw the blanket back on Steph. “I'll go.” She didn't listen to Steph's protests. She just grabbed the Spoiler mask from the floor where Steph had tossed most of her costume and pulled it on. Then she climbed out the window.

Once she got to the ground, she tucked her grapple away and then headed for the front door. The lobby was deserted except for the lady at the door. She took one look at Cass' mask and jerked her thumb at the door next to the elevators. “Right over here.” She looked like Nightwing had sometimes. Like she would attack Cass if she did anything. Cass missed the way Nightwing had looked at her before, when he'd told her stories she'd missed growing up. But she approved of this lady's caution.

The kitchen had eight people in it. Seven women, the youngest being a few years older than Cass and the oldest being older than Batman, but younger than Alfred. The man was older than Nightwing, and he had two mostly healed black eyes and a broken arm.

One of the women turned around when Cass entered and looked her up and down. She raised an eyebrow at Cass' mask. “Can you see through that thing?” She was very tall and looked like the women Cass had seen sometimes on Gotham's lowest streets. All sharp edges.

Cass nodded. The lenses on Steph's mask weren't as good as the ones on her cowl, but they were definitely see through. Maybe she could ask Alfred for some better lenses, get Steph properly equipped.

The lady continued. “Great. Gloves off, you're on peppers. Chop them to this size,” she held up a piece of onion, “then give them to Honey. She's doing omelettes. When you're done, you can flip pancakes.”

She'd helped Alfred with dinner once or twice last year, so she knew how to do peppers. Take out the seeds, cut the pepper into strips, then do more cutting. Cooking wasn't her favourite thing to do, but if someone was willing to show her, she was willing to learn. After a few minutes, she was able to chop without thinking about it and she could think about something else.

The Red Hood. According to Oracle, the second Robin. Which made him an ally, or a former ally. Which meant that Batman should be doing something. But Batman was spending all his time thinking about what to do about Red Hood and not actually doing anything. He'd welcomed Cass back after she'd been brainwashed. He'd accepted Huntress and allowed her to work in Gotham with the Birds. She understood that Red Hood killed people, but if Huntress could work towards not killing people, so could Red Hood.

She scraped the last of the peppers off of the cutting boards and into a bowl, then passed them to Honey. Then another lady handed her a spatula and a very large bowl of pancake batter. The two frying pans were already hot, so Cass spooned some batter into each and waited.

Huntress had had the Birds to help her. Oracle had sent her on missions that made her realize that she could be better, and after she forgave Oracle for tricking her, she had. According to Nightwing, Huntress had been a vigilante who killed. Now she didn't.

“Oh, sweetie, no. You don't need to check under them.” A woman with very nice eye makeup and a slight limp gently guided Cass' spatula out from under the pancake. She pointed at the top. “See here? When it bubbles like this one,” she pointed at another pancake, one Cass hadn't checked yet, “it's ready to be flipped.” She waited while Cass flipped the pancake, golden brown on one side, then smiled at her. “When you're done with this batch, there's a roaster in the oven you can put them in. Just make sure you use the gloves.”

Cass looked at the oven mitts next to the stove, then back to the woman. She smiled. “Thank you.” The woman nodded and went back to the fruit. Maybe Cass should ask her how she did her eye makeup, so she could show Steph.

So Red Hood needed a bunch of people who could help him realize he could be better. Cass wanted to help. She'd tried helping other people, like Alpha and Black Wind, but she didn't think they'd wanted her help. She'd have to meet Red Hood and see if he wanted her help.

She thought back to the adoption papers Batman had filled out. They were still pending, but once they were approved, she would be his daughter. And the second Robin had been his son. Which would make him her brother. She really hoped he would want her help.

Once all the batter was done, the lady with the eye makeup and the limp told her to grab the roasting pan from the oven and follow her. Five of the ladies left the kitchen while the rest stayed to clean up. Cass followed them to another room full of children and tables and more children.

The ladies set all the food on another table by the door, then the tall lady grabbed a bell and rang it. “Food's up kids! Line up nicely now, there's lots for everyone!”

Besides Cass' roaster, there were another two roasters of pancakes, eight trays of omelettes, the biggest pile of bacon she had ever seen and three bowls of fruit salad. As the children went by, she helped them put pancakes on their plates. When all the kids were sitting and eating and chatting, Honey came up to her. “Thanks for your help today. You can hit the hay if you need to, we can handle cleanup.”

“What about leftovers?” There was still a lot of food here. And according to the audio files Oracle had, the second Robin had had a thing about food.

Honey laughed. “Don't worry kiddo. Red Hood has that thought out. Some kids will have seconds, some will need snacks when they study later tonight, and whatever is still here tomorrow morning will go to the homeless.”

Cass nodded, smiled, and left. Some of the children waved at her, and she waved back.

By the time she got back to Red Hood's apartment, Steph was fast asleep on the couch. Cass curled up on the armchair next to her, wrapped herself in another blanket, and closed her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

When Min's daughter opened the door for them, she didn't do it with a smile. “I hate you right now Hood. So much.”

“Sorry Jia.” Jason didn't blame her. The Eatery didn't usually do breakfast crowds. They opened at eleven, then did lunch, dinner and late night when the disreputable crowd was going home and looking for food. A lot of that had slowed down, yeah, but there was always going to be small contraband to smuggle and thugs hired by people who thought they were better than other people and a hundred other crimes that Jason didn't normally deal with. Yet. “It really was an emergency.” It was. He was so hungry.

She didn't look impressed. Neither did she move out of the doorway and let them in. “Biggest tip of my life Hood. And I'm charging you double.”

“Gasp! Jia! What would your mother say?”

“She'd tell me to charge triple.” Jia raised one eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Jason snorted. “Nice try. Tenfold or nothing.” Jason would pay it too. “But I'll take your first offer. Can we come in now?”

“Yeah. I'll have your order out in a bit.” She raked her eyes over Artemis and Bizarro as they followed Jason in. “Hm. Need anything to drink?”

Ah Jia. She'd gone to school in Metropolis, so random Superman clones or Amazon warriors weren't even worth mentioning for her. Jason would have to find out what her degree was in and see if he could find her a job in her field. Employment was crap right now, but she really didn't deserve to be waiting tables for the rest of her life. “Just tea, thanks!”

Jason led them to his usual booth. It was a corner booth, both because he liked being able to see the whole room and because he liked his space. Jason slid in on the left side, Artemis on the right, and then Bizarro floated up and took the corner seat, sitting between them. He grinned happily as Jason unfolded the laptop and Artemis crossed her arms and glared at him. Or just stared. It could be the same thing with her.

He'd finished wiping the hard drive on their trip over, and was just plugging in the flash drive when Jia came over with their tea pot and three cups. “Thanks Jia!” He waited until the tea was properly steeped, then poured the cups and slid them over. And then he pulled his helmet off.

Artemis made a weird choking noise around her tea cup. “For Hathor's sake, you're just a child!”

“Um, no?” Jason peeked at her over his screen and took a sip of his tea. “I'm nineteen. Totally, legally an adult.”

“You cannot even drink in this country.” She leaned forward and placed her arms on the table. “Shouldn't you be playing in the school yard with other children your age?”

“Didn't you train Wonder Girl? Pretty sure I'm older than her.” Archie had stopped by and told him a few of his adventures with the Teen Titans, and from what he'd said, Wonder Girl was a very competent fighter.

“Bizarro likes tea.” Bizarro had drank his entire cup in one go and had a contented smile on his face. The cup looked comically small and fragile in his hand, but he held it gently enough. “It's warm.”

Still pretty scalding hot, actually, but there were benefits to being invulnerable. Not burning your tongue drinking tea being right up there near the top of the list. Jason reached over and poured Bizarro another cup full. “It is pretty good. Drink as much as you want. Jia will keep us topped up.”

They passed a few minutes in silence. Bizarro finished the whole pot of tea. Artemis stared at Jason like he was a puzzle waiting to be found out. Jia took one look at the empty tea pot and returned with two more. Jason went through file after file looking for Black Mask's full shipping records.

There hadn't been time to sort through anything, so Jason had just hacked his way in, then copied all of Mask's files. Which meant there was a lot to sort through. He was able to dismiss personnel records and logistics easily enough. And he did find something that looked like Bizarro's medical records, something he'd definitely have to look at later. But the shipping records were being frustratingly elusive.

Aha! This looked promising. Just as he finished scrolling through the shipping records for the last month – and boy howdy did Black Mask smuggle a lot – Jia came up with their food and oh, it looked good. There was a noodle dish with tilapia fillets, some sort of sauce and gai lan. There was potstickers, dumplings, won ton soup, steamed buns, and sticky rice. There was fried rice and egg foo yung. There was so much more. He had told her to cook for big appetites and she did not disappoint. “Jia, you are the best. I love you so much right now.”

She smiled at him. Food was one thing they agreed on. Good food, and lots of it. “Glad to hear it. I'll be back with more once some space clears up on the table.” And then she disappeared back into the kitchen. The kitchen where all sound filtered into. Jason was onto her.

But he also didn't care. After this spread, she could overhear his life story if she wanted to. He grabbed his bowl, spooned himself some of the tilapia dish and a few won tons, and went to town.

Artemis grabbed her own share, as did Bizarro. He tried to copy them and use chopsticks, but it was probably too soon out of his pod for that kind of fine motor control. “Don't worry buddy, you'll get the hang of them. For now, just use a fork.”

After a few minutes of eating, Jason turned the laptop around so Artemis could see. “This is Black Mask's shipping records. See here, he sold something called the Headdress of Ptah.”

“Ptah doesn't wear a headdress,” Artemis objected. “Sometimes a skull cap, but nothing more elaborate than that.”

“Which means it's a fake name.” Jason pointed to where it had been sold. “Sold to some guy named Itri Efe.” A quick Google search pulled up who he was. “According to this, Efe's a terrorist. He and his band of bandits have been bombing Egyptian cities and causing tons of chaos, and blaming it on the Americans. Nice.”

“Is it actually working?” Artemis leaned closer to the screen, and scooped another ball of fried rice into her mouth.

“Yeah. He has a few friends in the Egyptian government and media who've been throwing the story around. America's been sticking its nose into their business for years, ever since Egypt aligned themselves with Qurac.” Qurac was now a smoldering crater, thanks to Cheshire and a nuclear bomb, but America hadn't pulled out. “Can't really blame them for being salty, but they really should leave the weapons of mass destruction out of it.”

Bizarro grunted his agreement. “They should not fight. Noodles are better.” To demonstrate, he shoved a forkful of tilapia noodles into his mouth.

“I agree, but plenty of people aren't smart enough to realize that.” Would the world be a better place if everyone stopped fighting and shared a bowl of noodles together? Absolutely. Will it ever happen? Jason didn't want to say never, but it was pretty dang close. “Anyways, that's where your bow is. Egypt.”

Artemis grunted, nibbling on a dumpling. “Egypt is a large country, little one. Finding the Bow will be difficult.”

“I can get you a more precise location.” Jason tried to grab the last steamed pork bun, but Bizarro got there first. He shrugged. “It'll take me a while though.” He hadn't done this kind of hacking in years. He'd been good at it, or good enough, but being dead had kind of put him behind the times. Whatever hacking he did would be easily traceable and really obvious, but he'd get it done. Hm. Maybe he could route it through a few dozen proxy servers first.

Just as the last bit of noodles disappeared from the bowl, Jia appeared with another round of food. “Eat up guys. And holler if you need more.”

Jason ate until he was full, then started on his hacking. He could eat, and eat a lot, but he didn't have the appetite of an Amazon. And neither of them could hold a candle to a Kryptonian eating real food for the first time. Jason didn't even want to think about the “food” Black Mask had given Bizarro for the day he'd been in there.

Still, even Bizarro had gotten full halfway through the third course. Jia was nice enough to box it up, so he could have it later. The bill was large enough to feed several families for a week. Jason sighed and dug out some cash. She'd gone with triple after all.

They were enjoying their eighth pot of tea when Jason's hacking finally got somewhere. It had taken an hour just to set up the proxy servers, then he'd had to hack a Lexcorp satellite, then use that to get into the personal computer of the Egyptian minister of finance, who had the personal email of Efe. From there, it wasn't too hard to find the computer Efe used most when emailing. “There we go. His base is in an oasis north east of Farafra. And, according to his emails, he plans on using it during the Leylet en Nuktah.”

Artemis hissed through her teeth. Bizarro took a small sip of his tea, then asked, “What is that?”

“A celebration of the yearly rise of the Nile.” Artemis grabbed Jason's laptop and swiveled it towards her. “One that the entire populace of the Delta celebrates. And more besides.” In other words, one of those festivals where lots of people gathered.

Jason checked the date of the festival. “Well, you've got a week.” Should be more than enough time. “Have fun you guys. You'll have to tell me all about it.”

“Red Him not coming?” Bizarro turned wide eyes on Jason.

“Can't. I have responsibilities in Bludhaven.” He'd already left for way longer than he'd intended. “The kids wouldn't appreciate it if I up and abandoned them for however long this mission will take.”

“About that.” Artemis turned to him with a gleam in her eye. Then her hand shot out and she grabbed Jason's jacket, pulling him towards her. The tea pot on the table rattled when his stomach smacked into the edge. “You mentioned that the children of Bludhaven would be in danger if Black Mask saw you. Explain.”

“The usual story? If you want a hero to show up, just threaten an innocent?” It worked for literally everyone. Heroes were predictable like that. It kind of bugged Jason that he would be that predictable too. He hoped Artemis accepted that, even if he didn't think she would. He really didn't want his relationship with the kids to get out.

There was a reason why villains went after Lois Lane and not Dave the butcher. They thought if there was a personal connection to Superman, then they could bend him to their will. They thought that Superman would take fewer chances to stop them if Lois was between them and the Man of Steel. The same would be true here. Red Hood made a lot of enemies. It was the name of the game. But so far, he seemed like a stone cold killing machine. A stone cold killing machine weirdly idolized by the younger generation, but hey, video games proved that kids love violence, right? That's what the news channels reported anyways.

Artemis rapped him on the forehead. “I don't believe that for a moment. Try again.”

“Kind of a long story. And Jia has to start getting ready to open,” Jason tried. Artemis crooked a single eyebrow at him. Yeah, he hadn't thought that would work either.

So he gave her the CliffsNotes version. Giving out his cell number, eventually becoming the friend, assistant and confidant of thousands of Bludhaven children. Artemis let him go once she was convinced he was being honest (about five minutes after he started talking), sitting back in her seat and watching him with an inscrutable expression.

Jason trusted her. Her and Bizarro both. Artemis, partly because of her association with Wonder Woman. Diana gave her trust to those who were worthy of it, and if Artemis had kept it this long, she must be very worthy. Also, because she had chosen to throw him out of the shipping container instead of jumping out herself. She'd known something was wrong. She had decided to save him instead. And Bizarro was too new. Very intelligent, despite his word choice, but he hadn't learned any kind of guile yet. So he wasn't working for Luthor or Black Mask. He'd keep this a secret as best as he could, and that was all Jason could ask.

He also trusted Jia, but he still kept his voice low. Artemis and Bizarro were very strong and able to defend themselves. Jia was a human girl with only a few weeks of self defense training under her belt.

Artemis nodded once he was done. “Your choices are foolish, but your intentions are good.”

“So glad I have your approval,” Jason said in a monotone.

“Bizarro play with children?”

“Maybe later big guy. For now, you two have a Bow to liberate and I have a bed to reacquaint myself with.”

“I am not taking Bizarro with me.” Artemis leveled a glare at Bizarro, or tried to anyway. He grinned back at her with such a sweet smile that the glare lost a bit of its force.

“Bizarro can fly you there.” Jason drank down the last of his tea and stood up. “Unless you have a magic airplane you can summon?”

Artemis sighed. “I do not. But if he misbehaves, it's your fault.” She held the door open for them.

“You'll be fine. Thanks again Jia!”

She poked her head out of the kitchen and glared at them. Or, more likely, him specifically. “I don't want to see your stupid face for another month at least Hood!”

He gave her a cheery grin and moved out of the doorway, allowing Artemis to close the door.

After a few goodbyes, a good luck or three, and a big hug from Bizarro, Artemis and Bizarro were on their way, and Jason was riding his bike home. He stashed his bike in the shed behind River Heights, then grappled up to his room, picked open the window and fell face first on his bed. He was asleep in moments.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you were expecting shenanigans. I wrote instead chatting over food. Also, bonding. Very important. Love that stuff.
> 
> Some of Cass' thought processes here. Alpha and Black Wind are characters from Batgirl 35 and Batgirl 39 respectively. Alpha was a dude with memory loss. Cass thought he was a government agent and helped him get his memories back, but he turned out to be a terrorist. She tried to convince him not to do terror things, but kind of failed. Black Wind was a guy from Tarakstan who wanted to kill a rich guy who got his riches by destroying Tarakstan villages to get the oil underneath. Cass stopped him, saying she wasn't on his side, or the rich guy's side. She was on the side of Justice! Anyways, he escaped prison and was never heard from again.
> 
> All my knowledge of Egyptian gods comes from Google. Please correct me if it's wrong.
> 
> If anyone wants, I can upload some blueprint type stuff for the apartment building to my tumblr. It's just sketches I made while I was bored at work, so they're not great.


	17. Black Cherry Breakdown, Plans and Persistence, and Dad-fender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason finds someone he didn't expect in his apartment. Then he helps a girl prepare for an interview. Cass and Steph have a chat over breakfast. And Kelly uses what he knows to make a tough choice.

The first thing Jason noticed, even before his eyes were fully open, was that the gun that was normally under his pillow was in his hand and pointed at... something. He cracked open an eye. Someone, apparently. A girl, one he had never met before in his life.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” This could not be happening. Was she one of Bludhaven's kids? She did look vaguely familiar. How did she get up here?

The girl didn't even glance at the gun, which sort of ruled out regular kid. She just stared him in the eye and said, “Steph made breakfast.” Then she turned on the ball of her foot and walked out.

Steph did what? Wait. Jason rolled out of bed, landing hard on the floor. Grabbing the flash drive from its secret compartment in his bed frame, he plugged it into his laptop and brought up a training video. One of Spoiler and Batgirl trying to beat his bench press record. Dread sank into his stomach. He knew what he would find, but he brought up Batgirl's file anyways.

With a snarl, he slammed his laptop closed and stormed into his kitchen. Steph's bright smile and cheerful, “Good morning,” both fell flat when she saw the look on his face. “Uh oh.”

“What the hell is she doing in my apartment!?” He slammed one fist on the counter and flung the other hand out towards Batgirl. Stephanie flinched, and it was only months and months of being around women and children with that exact same startle reflex towards aggressive men that allowed him to lower his voice and relax his posture. “This is my _home_. You can't just invite people in whenever you want!”

“I know.” The sound was barely a whisper. Steph squared her shoulders and tried again. “I know. And I don't really have a good excuse for it. But I'm sorry. I thought maybe breakfast would help to make up for it, but if not, we can leave. Right now.”

Batgirl was standing in the middle of his living room, watching him. Jason kept one eye on her, not wanting her to get the drop on him. He could take Steph. She was tenacious, and talented, and she wouldn't go down easily, but she wasn't very well trained. Batgirl... he wasn't sure he could take Batgirl. “Steph, there was a reason I didn't go back to the manor to jump into Alfred's arms.” Because that was all he had wanted to do since coming back. But he couldn't. So he continued, voice more desperate than he would have liked. “I didn't want anything to do with _them_.”

Steph looked startled. Batgirl took a step closer, stopping when Jason shifted one leg back slightly, to better balance against incoming attack. “I won't tell. Your house, what you're doing. I won't tell Batman.”

She seemed sincere. But... Jason shook his head. “I don't know you. I can't trust you.”

“I vouch for her,” Steph said immediately. “Um. If that helps. And... I'm sorry about this.”

“It doesn't help. You broke my trust Steph.” And since the universe loved to deal in coincidences, his phone went off at that moment. He grabbed it from the counter where Steph had left it, then turned back to his room. “I want you both out of my apartment in the next five minutes.”

“What about breakfast?” The pile of breakfast foods on his coffee table had looked good. Hashbrowns and sausages and pancakes and chopped fruit.

He paused. Then he called over his shoulder, “You're already here. Just eat fast and be gone before I get back.” The door closed with a click behind him.

Taking a moment to collect himself, he answered the call. “Red Hood dry cleaning. From bad days to bloodstains, we clean them all. How can we help you today?”

“ _You're back!!!_ ” Jason held his phone a bit away from his ear as the girl yelled. “ _I have an interview today and it's going to make or break my future and I'm so nervous and I can't breathe and-_ ”

“Stop. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold.” Jason repeated the instructions as he considered his closet. Black Mask’s vents were filthy at best, and his uniform didn’t smell great. It wasn’t super comfortable to be in after sleeping in it either. After a minute or two, when her breathing was a little more steady, he asked, “Better?”

“ _Yes, thank you._ ” She took another deep breath. “ _This interview is so important. Can you help?_ ”

“I can try. What's your name kiddo? And do you live in River Heights?”

“ _Fatima. Yes, I'm on the sixth floor._ ”

“I'll be right down. Keep breathing.” Jason hung up and considered. He didn't really need bullet proof armor to get to the tenth floor of the building. So he pulled off his hoodie, pulled on a clean turtleneck and threw on his jacket. His domino went into his pocket for now, and he kept his gun tucked into his waistband.

Instead of going into his main apartment (where he could still hear whispering, damn it), he went through the door to his library. From there, he went to the hallway and took his chute down, put on his domino, exited out the dojo, then took the elevator up. When he exited on the sixth floor, a girl about seventeen years old was waiting, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and tapping her leg with one hand. “Thank you so much for coming, I am freaking out so bad.”

Jason smiled. “You'll be ok. So, what's the interview for?”

She started walking towards her room. “It's for school. A video interview. They send me questions, and then I record my answers and it's all timed, and what if I didn't do enough research for the course-”

“Stop freaking out, it's not going to help.” Jason sat down in the desk chair while she paced through the middle of the room. On the other side of the room, Fatima's roommate looked up.

“I've told her that. Four times.” Fatima's roommate reached up and snagged her arm as she passed by, pulling her down on the bed with her. “I will sit on you. Calm down.”

“I know, it's just...” Fatima took a deep breath. “Cindi, this is all I want to do with my life. What if I don't get in?”

“Then you try again next year. Dumbass.” Cindi looked up at Jason. “Sorry Red. She's totally got this, but she doesn't think she's got it.”

Jason just shrugged. “Hey, everyone gets nervous sometimes.” Leaning back in his chair, he noticed a massive file folder labeled 'Radiology program'. He pointed at it. “May I?” When Fatima nodded, he picked the folder up and flipped through it. “This is very thorough. You've definitely got this.”

“But what if I don't!? What if I freak out during the interview and they don't take me because I'm a wreck?!” Fatima pressed her hands into her eyelids and fell back onto the mattress. “I'm going to fail. I know it.”

“Well, I think you'll do fine. Tell you what though. Freak out all you want now, and freak out after the interview. And during the interview, me and Cindi will help you stay calm. Sound good?”

“I...” She grabbed a pillow, screamed into it, then sat up. “Yes. Let's do this.”

“Finally.” Cindi grabbed a brush and dragged it through Fatima's disheveled hair. “Let's make you look all professional.”

The interview was... different. A video would play of the interviewer asking a question, then there was a timed preparation period. Jason spent the minute or two Fatima was given massaging her shoulders while Fatima and Cindi furiously went through her notes and wrote down an answer. After that there was another timed period for Fatima to record her answer. Jason held up the notebook behind her laptop, so it would seem like she was reciting from memory.

After the fifth question, Fatima slid out of her chair and landed in a puddle on the floor. “I failed, I failed, I know I failed.”

Jason sat down next to her and patted her on the shoulder. “I think you did great. If the program coordinator doesn't take you, they're crazy.”

Cindi sat down too. “Totally crazy. And on the slim chance they don't take you, there's always next year.” Fatima just whined and dragged another pillow off of the bed. Cindi sighed. “You should go Red. Dojo is about to start, and there's nothing more you can do here that black cherry ice cream and stupid movies can't do better.”

Jason laughed. “Alright. If you insist. But if she needs anything else, just call.”

“Always. Thanks Red.”

From her spot on the floor, Fatima waved. She said something that was entirely muffled by the pillow, so Jason didn't catch it. Probably a thank you though.

Three weeks later, Fatima got her acceptance letter in the mail. Jason got her the best black cherry ice cream he could find to celebrate.

  
  


  
  


  
  


On the couch, Cass poked at her hashbrowns. “Sorry Steph.” She'd just been so excited to have someone new to spar with. Someone trained by the League. She would win, but maybe she could have learned something from him. Like talking to civilians. She wasn't good at that. But the audio files she'd heard said Jason had been very good at it. And from what she'd seen here, it was true. But she'd underestimated how angry he was. And sad.

When she first saw him, he was mostly sleepy, which hadn't stopped him from pointing his gun at her before he was awake. But as soon as he walked out of his room, she had seen it. It was tightly controlled, like Batman's emotions were, but she had practice seeing that. Only a little of his anger was directed towards them though. Only a little of the sadness too. She would have to find out why he was mad at Batman.

Maybe if she'd said something better, or different. Maybe he wouldn't have kicked them out.

Steph nudged her in the side with her elbow. “Hey. Don't you go all Batman on me.” She stabbed a sausage with more force than it needed and stuck it in her mouth. “This wasn't entirely your fault. It was mine too. I knew that Jason probably wouldn't like you being there, but I let you in anyways.”

“Like you could have stopped me.”

“Yeah, but I could have tried to get you out when we woke up instead of cooking breakfast first.” Steph ate some more breakfast, then said, “It'll be fine. We'll win back his trust and then you'll have a sparring partner, and I'll have access to his fridge, and everything will be great.”

Cass smiled. “You're missing a few steps.”

“Fine. Step one: don't tell Batman. In fact, keep Batman far, far away from Bludhaven.” Steph grabbed Cass' hand, the one holding the fork, and moved it until it had stabbed a melon chunk. Cass took the hint and ate it. “If Batman shows up at all soon, Jason will think we told him where he lives and he'll hate us forever.”

“Yes.” And Cass didn't want that. Batman had been carrying a weight on his shoulders for as long as Cass had known him. She had only seen it lift once. She had been hiding in the stalactites, when Superman had flown into the Cave and told Batman that Jason was alive. It had come back, as soon as Batman had looked up Red Hood's kill count, but it had been gone.

She finally had a family who loved her, and who she loved back. She wanted them to be happy. She wanted the weight off of Batman's shoulders. She wanted to see Nightwing happy. He hadn't been, not since he'd visited Bludhaven. She wanted to eat Jason's cooking with Steph and Jason, and she wanted Tim to meet the Robin who had been before him. She wanted Alfred to see Jason again.

Alfred. “Steph. Step two. Alfred.”

Hashbrowns fell off of Steph's fork. She turned to Cass, wide eyed and open mouthed. “Cass. You're a genius.”

Cass nodded.

Steph put her plate on the coffee table, grabbing a pencil and notebook from her belt. Normally, she used it for drawing. Now, she started making a list. Her writing was too messy for Cass to make out though, so she frowned and poked Steph in the side. Steph yelped, then started talking. “Ok, this is a delicate operation. We're going to have to pick our time, and we're going to have to make sure we get the kids to lay off for several hours so they can talk. During training would be best. I can teach another few classes, and you can assist.”

“Excuse you.” Assist?

Steph leveled a flat look at her, pencil paused halfway through a word. If that was a word. “Cass, my friend, my sister, my bestie, you are the worst teacher. Your advice for completing training as fast as you was to be faster.” She started writing again. “So I can show them moves, and you can help me demonstrate, and you're going to have to be much less awesome than you are so the kids can keep up. Ok?”

She sighed. “Ok.” It might be fun.

Then Steph sighed as well and her pencil dropped to her lap. “Problem. Alfred is super dignified, right? Well, the only way to get into Jason's apartment is to grapple down from the roof. And I don't see him doing that.”

“Alfred would.” If it were for someone he took care of, he would.

“Maybe. But I still think we need to think of a better way for him to get up there.”

Cass nodded. “Someone who flies.”

“Maybe. Or we could just knock down the wall he built to the stairway access.”

“Too noisy. Kids will want to know. And not good for building trust.”

“Good point. But if we get someone who flies, it would have to be someone trustworthy.”

“Superman?”

“Maybe. He does owe Jason one. Or we could ask...”

“Wait.” Cass didn't want to mess up again. “Eat now. Plan later.”

Steph paused, then nodded. Her notebook and pencil went away and she attacked her food with passion. Cass did too. And when they were done, they did their dishes, because it might help. Then they jumped out the window, got onto the bike that Cass had brought, and rode home.

This was going to work. Nothing could stop Cass or Steph when they were determined. This would work.

  
  


  
  


Kelly loved his dad. His dad took him to ball games, and taught him how to ride a bike, and had read to him every night for eight years, until Kelly decided he was old enough to read himself. Reading night had moved to Friday, and they took turns.

His dad was kind and gentle and had never once shouted or loomed or hit Kelly. He was never scared of his dad. He knew he was lucky, because most of the other kids in his class had dads who did those things. If their dads were there at all. A lot of the time they were in jail.

When Kelly's dad had been younger, he'd been the son of a very rich man. After his parents had gotten married, and after Kelly had been born, his grandfather had been killed, and all of his money stolen. Kelly's dad had become a carpenter, and Kelly's family had moved from a massive house to an apartment near downtown. Kelly knew all this because his mom always talked about it. She'd driven Kelly to their old house many times, saying that this is where they would have been if Kelly's dad, “hadn't been such a fucking pussy and taken back what was his.”

Sometimes, Kelly was scared of his mom. When she spoke, her words hurt. Sometimes, Kelly's dad would come to reading night after a long talk with his mom and his voice would tremble.

The drinking didn't start until Kelly was in seventh grade. Honestly, Kelly was surprised it had taken this long. When she drank, Kelly's mom slurred her words, but that didn't make them hurt any less. She talked about how her life was terrible, stuck in a terrible marriage with a stupid husband and a stupider son. Sometimes, she hit Kelly's dad.

Kelly started spending less time at home. He went to the River Heights dojo after school, and didn't go home until his dad got off of work. He made a few friends, and Red Hood told him that he was really good at aikido, and in a few years he might be able to go competitive. It was the first time someone had told him he was good at something. It made him feel happy all day long.

Normally, he tried to time his arrival so that he got home ten minutes before his dad did. It gave him time to put his bag away and open his homework. Then his dad would help him understand his homework while he made dinner.

Today, he didn't time it right. He heard the shouting from down the hall. Sometimes his dad got laid off, and he got sent home early. His mom was always so angry when he came home early. With a sigh, he tugged his bag higher on his shoulder and opened the door.

“-useless fucking asshole! What the fuck good are you if you can't even keep a job? How am I supposed to live? If you weren't such damned pussy all those years ago, you would have taken what was yours back from the Pulniks and we wouldn't be living in this fucking hole in the wall!” Kelly's mom was slurring her words, more than she usually did. She had a bottle of vodka swinging from her hand. Kelly's dad just stood in the middle of the kitchen and hung his head.

Kelly wished his dad would stand up for himself. He wasn't useless. He got enough money to put food on the table. Their apartment was warm all the time, and last year for Christmas, he'd given Kelly a Playstation. Kelly knew they were doing very well, especially compared to the other kids in his class, and the ones at River Heights. Well, the ones at River Heights were doing good now. But that was a new thing.

It happened really fast. Kelly didn't know what had set his mom off, but she smashed the bottle on the edge of the counter, just as Kelly was putting his books on the kitchen table. She lunged, unsteady but fast, at his dad.

Kelly moved faster. He used one of the first moves Red Hood had taught them, how to disarm someone holding a knife, and how to use their wrist and elbow to move them into a position where they couldn't move. The bottle crashed to the ground. His mom was swearing, trying to stand from the kneeling position Kelly had her in, but she couldn't. Not without hurting her arm. And Kelly was standing behind her, so she couldn't attack him with her other arm.

Kelly's dad stood in shock, but moved to the telephone when Kelly said, “Dad? Could you please call the cops?”

The cops came, and Kelly's mom was arrested. They asked Kelly and his dad lots of questions, and they asked his neighbours lots of questions too. Mrs. Nally across the hall told them about all the shouting that always happened. Dave Green said that Kelly's mom was a nasty piece of work.

Kelly was sad. His mom wasn't always a nasty piece of work. Sometimes, she took him out for ice cream, or to the movies, or played his Playstation with him. But she needed help to see that she had enough, and that she didn't need all the fancy dresses and fast cars and shiny jewelry she kept bothering Kelly's dad to buy her.

Later that night, when the police were gone and the bottle had been swept up, Kelly's dad placed a big warm hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for saving me son. I'm sorry you had to, but I'm grateful you did.”

And Kelly smiled and said, “You're welcome Dad. Can we read together tonight?” Because it was Wednesday, not Friday, but Kelly wanted to read with his dad.

And Kelly's dad smiled back and said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. I'm terrible. It's been more than a month and I am so sorry. In my (meager) defense, most writers I know spent all of November sitting in front of a computer and dying inside. I spent all of November sitting in a bush, freezing my butt off and dying inside.
> 
> I will very very hard to not repeat this, but Christmas is coming up and I have no idea how busy I'll be. I am so sorry.
> 
> Wow. That thing with Cass didn't go so well. See, I originally had them having a nice chat over breakfast and ending with a good note, and then my wonderful beta Arrow told me that it was too nice. She was right. Actually, this was a bit worse than it had been after the rewrite. She told me that was too brutal and to tone it down. She was right then too. But she is also a pain in the butt. Betas man.
> 
> Hm. Bizarro and Artemis should be returning from Egypt soon-ish. Don't worry, they won't take up another three chapters.


	18. Dad-plicate, Red and Blue's Epic Egyptian Vacay, Super Chat, Oracle and Also Scones, Red and Blue's Epic Return, and Tangle Tamers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey's principal wants to meet with Davey's dad, which is a problem. Artemis and Bizarro have been gone for a while, wonder how they're doing. Jason discusses something important with someone important. Barbara invites Alfred over for scones. Hey look, Artemis and Bizarro again! People who do yarn crafts know this pain.

“That's it kids, get out of here.” Jason straightened up from where he'd been showing Claire and Davey how to properly do a hold. His last class of the day filtered out of the dojo, chatting. Some of them would go upstairs, to their rooms for a shower. Most of them would go home to do the same.

A few lingered behind to ask questions. One of the most common was when that nice purple lady would be back. She'd only taught them for one class, but a good portion of the kids had liked her and wanted her back. Jason gave them the same answer, over and over: that she probably wouldn't be back, that it had been a one time thing. They kept asking anyways.

Finally it was just him and Davey. “What's up Davey? Need pointers on how to break a hold?”

“No. Well, I mean yes, but that's not why I'm here.” Davey bit his lip, then pulled a note out of his pocket and held it out.

Jason took it. “You got in trouble at school? Doing what?”

“Jack Finnegan was picking on other kids again, so I punched him. But then Mrs. Clancy walked in when I did, so I got detention. But the principal still wants to see my parents so he can talk about it.”

“I see.” According to the note, the summons was for tomorrow morning, just before class. The problem was, Davey lived at the apartment. That, plus the bruises that had run up his arms when he'd first arrived, meant that his home life wasn't the best. “So you need me to, what, threaten the principal into letting this go?”

Davey smiled a bit. “No, he's not a bad guy. But maybe if you could come to the meeting instead?”

Oh jeez. Jason sighed. “I'll see what I can do Davey. Does your school know what your dad looks like? Because otherwise I'm going to need a picture.”

“No.” Davey shook his head, eyes downcast. “He never went to the school. Mom usually took care of everything, before...” He sniffed.

Slowly, Jason crouched down and reached for Davey, and when the kid didn't react, wrapped an arm around him. “I know buddy. She was the best, huh?”

“Yeah.” He laughed a small, watery laugh. “She used to make me pancakes, but she used a bottle to put the batter on the pan and she could make so many things! Pig pancakes and gorillas and Mickey Mouse and one time she made me a Mario and that was so cool.”

“She sounds amazing.” Jason kept his arm around Davey until the kid started squirming then moved back, leaving one hand on Davey's shoulder. “Now, you run upstairs, take a shower and get to bed. I've got to see if there's a costume shop open this late, and then I'll pick you up in the morning.” He pulled out his phone and started texting.

Davey nodded, sniffed, and ran for the door.

The next morning, Jason knocked on Davey's apartment door. His face itched under the prosthetics he'd applied to make his jaw look less defined, and the makeup he had on to make him look older. Good thing Davey had dark brown hair, or he might have had to break into a department store for hair bleach.

No, there hadn't been an open costume store that late. It being a solid four months until Halloween, there was maybe two in the city. But he'd left enough money to cover what he'd technically not stolen on the counter, so it was probably fine.

He also had his helmet under his arm. With the kids as twitchy as they usually were, they probably wouldn't like a strange guy walking around their safe place. Hopefully the helmet would be enough to keep them from panicking. That and the mass text he'd sent everyone in the building saying that if they saw a weird guy in an orange shirt with the Red Hood helmet tucked under his arm, that was just Red Hood in disguise. Any other weird people were probably intruders and either Red Hood or Big Otis in the kitchen should be notified immediately.

Davey opened the door after a few minutes and his jaw dropped. “Red? Is that you?”

“Yup.” Jason's face was rounder, his cheekbones lower. He'd tried to copy the curve of Davey's eyebrows and the width of his nose, and looking at Davey now, he thought he'd done a good job. “How do I look?”

Davey ran a critical eye over Jason. “You don't look like my dad, not quite, but you could be related to him.”

“Good enough then. Let's get going, you can fill me in on anything I'll need to know on the bus.” Davey grabbed his backpack from his bed and ran out the door. After dropping his helmet off with Carrie at the front desk, they walked the few blocks to the bus stop. Breakfast at River Heights wouldn't be served for another ten minutes, but they needed to leave early to be on time for the before-school meeting the principal had insisted on. So Jason handed Davey a sandwich while they waited for the bus.

“What does your dad work as?”

“Carpenter. He hates it though. He says he wants to be a foreman, and make all the decisions on the site, but his company's never let him.”

“Hm. Alright. And he's never been to your school before?”

“Nope,” Davey said around a bite of sandwich.

That was good. “How's your grades?” Jason knew that Davey spent most of his evenings in the study room, and he didn't seem to be goofing off, but he also knew that it could be hard to retain information sometimes.

Davey moved his head back and forth a few times, thinking. “They've gotten a lot better since I moved out, but they're still kinda low. They used to be in the sixties, now they're mostly between seventy and eighty percent.

“Hey, nice!” Jason ruffled Davey's hair. “Good job kiddo! Keep up the good work!” It had only been a month since Davey had moved into River Heights, and he was seeing that kind of improvement already?

Davey blushed under the praise and took another large bite of sandwich. When the bus arrived, Jason spent most of the ride asking Davey about the fight and the other kid. Apparently, Jack Finnegan was notorious for picking on anyone who didn't fit in, and his group of friends usually joined in. Never anything physical, it was all verbal. But they did it out of sight of the teachers, and since Jack had the highest marks in the class and was the star of the debate team, none of the teachers had believed the other kids when they told them.

The kid Davey had been defending was one of the students with learning disabilities, and one of Jack's favourite targets. Davey had gotten sick of his crap, especially since the kid who Jack had been picking on, Max, was a really nice guy. Hence the punching. “I know punching Jack was wrong, but Max didn't deserve any of that. And I know I'm going to get detention, that's fine. You're not coming with me to keep me out of trouble, I just don't want Dad to find out.”

Jason ruffled his hair. “The offer still stands you know.” Three weeks ago, Jason had posted a note on the apartment cork board. Normally the cork board had things like breakfast menus, dojo schedules, and building events, like movies playing in the common rooms and trips to the ice cream place down the street. The notice Jason posted, after a bad night involving lots of shouting heard through a window and what was essentially the kidnapping of a woman and her two year old son from the house of the boyfriend who had abused them, said that he would personally punch the parents of the kids who lived in his building, if they wanted him to. One offer per child, and if they wanted, he would record it. So far, he hadn't had any takers, but he was leaving the notice up for the time being.

Davey ducked his head and smiled. “Maybe later. Our stop is next.”

The wait outside the principal's office was far too long. Either Mr. MacArthur – according to the name on the door – had forgotten about his appointment or he was making them wait deliberately. When he'd been in school, Jason had almost never been to the principal's office, but he knew how they worked. Did it bother him that making a kid wait and stew and fidget was incredibly similar to how the police made criminals wait and stew and fidget in interrogation? Yes. Could he do anything about it now? Not unless he wanted to cause a stink and draw more negative attention to Davey.

Still, that didn't mean he had to play along. He grabbed a long piece of string from his pocket and proceeded to spend the next ten minutes teaching Davey how to play Cat's Cradle. About a minute before the principal opened his door, a heavyset man with a large moustache walked in with a young boy beside him. The boy had a bruise on his upper cheek, a bruise that likely matched Davey's knuckles exactly. Both man and boy were glaring at them, but Jason ignored them and kept playing, showing Davey how to get from four straight lines of string to two straight lines and two X's.

Finally, Mr. MacArthur opened his door. “Mr. Marston, Mr. Finnegan, you and your sons may come in now.” He glared lightly at the string in Jason's hand.

Jason took his time wrapping it around his fingers and putting it back into his pocket. Then he and Davey took their seats in Mr. MacArthur's office. “Thank you both for coming. As you both know, we're here to discuss an incident that occurred between both of your sons.”

“You mean where that little miscreant hit my son without any sort of provocation?!” Finnegan half stood in his chair, slamming his fist down on the principal's desk. “I pay good money to your school so my son can learn without being attacked!”

“Settle down, Mr. Finnegan, we can work this out!” The principal held up his hands, trying to placate the angry father.

“Really? Well, I pay good money to this school as well.” Well, not yet. Jason had donated to other schools in the form of books and equipment, but hadn't gotten to this one yet. Soon. “So do the parents of the children your son bullies.” Jason put a hand on Davey's shoulder. “Davey was defending one of them. And while yes, he definitely could have done it in a less violent manner, the fact that he felt he needed to at all is a problem.”

Finnegan sputtered. “Bullying? My son is not a bully!”

“According to Davey, he is. He's been picking on any student who doesn't fit in for most of this year.” By this point, the calm demeanor Jason had walked in with was starting to wear thin.

And then snapped when Finnegan snorted and said, “So? Those little weirdos could use some toughening up.”

“I'm sorry, what?” Jason turned in his seat so he was facing Finnegan fully. “I'm not sure I heard you right. Because being put down every day doesn't make people stronger. Being told they're worthless doesn't make people stronger.” His own experiences, coupled with the texts sent to him from the children who had been bullied by Jack Finnegan, the ones who went to this school that he had texted last night, caused him to stand up. He drew himself to his full height. “It only brings them down. It only leads to them taking extreme measures to make it stop. If us adults don't get involved and stop it, then either the bully gets punched, like your son did yesterday, or something much worse happens.”

Finnegan was shrinking back in his seat a bit. Mr. MacArthur looked shocked. Jack looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. Jason's voice had barely gone above dangerously quiet. He sent one last glare at Finnegan and sat down. “Mr. MacArthur, as you were saying?”

“Right. Yes, right.” The principal cleared his throat, then again, then reached into his drawer for a file. “Right. Here we are. We do have a number of claims that Jack here was picking on other students, nothing any of the teachers could prove, or we would have had a discussion about it sooner, Mr. Finnegan. However, the rather large number of claims does indicate a problem. I would like Jack to spend his recess in the library, going over our anti-bullying material, for the next three days.”

“What?!” The man squeaked out the word, then tried again, “What? My son gets attacked and he gets punished for it?”

“Your son has nearly two dozen complaints filed with the office about bullying.” Mr. MacArthur looked over his reading glasses at Finnegan, then turned back to his papers. “As for David, he will spend the next week inside. He will also review the anti-bullying material, and he will be speaking with the counselor about proper conflict resolution. Further infractions by either of you will result in suspensions, either in school or out of school depending on the size of the infraction, or expulsion. Is that amenable?”

Jason shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Finnegan just grumbled and stood up, pulling his son behind him. The door slammed behind them.

With a sigh, Jason stood up. “It was nice to meet you Mr. MacArthur. I'm sorry it was under these circumstances. Come on Davey, let's get you to class.” Hopefully, with a nice farewell to the principal, Davey wouldn't face repercussions because Jason yelled at Finnegan and ruined the nice, civil discussion Mr. MacArthur had been going for. Then again, Finnegan started yelling first. And Jason hadn't really raised his voice. Not really.

“Ok Dad. Bye Mr. MacArthur.” After they closed the door behind themselves, Davey showed Jason to his locker. They had five minutes before Davey had to head to class, so he spent the time excitedly showing Jason the contents of his locker. Posters, a Valentine's card from someone named Jaime, plus the usual locker stuff. Gym shoes, text books that looked like they'd seen better days, and a random scattering of pencil stubs, paper clips and broken pens at the bottom. “And this!” Davey pulled out a book that had been sitting flat against the back of the locker. It was small and slim and nearly invisible behind the textbooks. “It's my art journal. Take a look!”

Carefully, Jason flipped the book open. “Wow. These are really good!” Page upon page of abstract art and landscapes. A few portraits, not quite as good as the landscapes, but Davey was showing definite improvement between the first few pages and the last few. “Looking into an art career?”

“Sort of. It was my dream last year, but then Dad... told me it wasn't a practical career choice. No work for artists and stuff.” Davey leaned against the next locker over, rubbing at his upper arm.

Jason flipped another few pages. “There is. With art like this, you could be a concept artist for a game or special effects company. You'd really have to work at it, but it's doable. If you go into computers, you could even make the special effects yourself, see your art come to life.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

A hopeful smile crossed Davey's face. “Thanks R- um. Dad. I should get going now.”

“Yeah, don't want to be late for class. See you kiddo!” Davey shouldered his backpack and headed off to his first class. Jason walked in the opposite direction, towards the doors.

When Davey got home that evening, there was a sketchbook with beautifully heavy paper on it and several good art reference books on his bed.

  
  


  
  


“Well. That wasn't so hard.” Artemis hefted the Bow of Ra in her hands. Around her, the dismembered, frozen, or ripped apart corpses of the terrorists lay. To her left floated the clone. It was his fault they had gotten here on the day before Leylet en Nuktah. He had insisted on stopping at every city they flew over and trying the local food. She couldn't fault him. The food Black Mask's men had grudgingly tossed onto the floor of her cell had looked nearly as bad as it had tasted. She hadn't eaten more than a bite or two to keep her strength up. Bizarro had inhaled the plateful.

“Red Her has Bow. Red Her and Bizarro go get juice now?” The clone's hopeful face floated before her own. She had only been able to spur him on by promising her own favourite drink after they had gotten the Bow.

“Indeed Bizarro.” She carefully unstrung the Bow and slid it into the case she had brought. The lock was magical, and would only open for her. “El-Agamy should be on our way to the Mediterranean. Take us north Bizarro.” Once the case was slung across her back, Artemis climbed on top of Bizarro's back. She refused to let him carry her in his arms, since she wouldn't be able to break his grip if she needed to make a quick escape, so this had been their compromise. Once she was as settled as she would get, she pointed in the direction they needed to take.

The flight was nice. It was still before sunrise, so the air was cool and felt wonderful on her skin. The fight hadn't been particularly taxing, but she had worked up enough of a sweat to be satisfied. Bizarro had mostly stood by and swatted or freeze-visioned anyone who came close to him, or who got too close to Artemis.

They landed just outside of El-Agamy just as the sun was starting to rise. Being just outside of the reach of the Delta, Artemis had hoped that the festivities would be less here. And indeed, they were. The city was already busy, as any desert city would be before the day got too hot to do much of anything, but in the way bustling cities were. Perhaps the smiles were brighter, and the laughter louder, but it lacked the festive cheer that Desouk or Cairo would have. Which was good, because then she never would have been able to convince Bizarro to leave.

They stopped by the first cafe they walked by that looked clean enough to be decent but not wealthy enough to be a front for crime. With the Bow in her possession, there was no need to start a commotion. She ordered two hibiscus juices and an Umm Ali apiece, paying immediately so they could eat at an outside table. Umm Ali was a dish she had had often as a child. It was a kind of bread pudding, but it was made of light, flaky pastry rather than dense bread. Both it and the hibiscus juice brought to mind days of sparring with Akila, then going for a drink and a snack afterwards.

Bizarro ate slowly, but with gusto, savouring each bite. Almost like he could tell how much this dish meant to her.

But all too soon, the food was all gone. Bizarro sat quiet for a minute, then asked, “What now Red Her?”

A question which stumped her. She had the Bow, but she could not be certain it would not fall into the wrong hands. She couldn't take it to Themyscira. After the attacks by the OMACs, it had been transported to gods knew where. The only thing she could do was to keep it with her at all times. But perhaps an extra layer of security would be useful. “I have no preference as to where we go from here, Bizarro. If you help me keep the Bow safe, I would be content to travel with you, if you choose.” Diana had been telling her to see more of the world after all. To familiarize herself with it. And truthfully, after her brief stint in the Justice League, and then in the Hellenders, she hadn't left Themyscira much.

Bizarro smiled. “Bizarro want see Red Him. Red Him said next time, Bizarro play with children!”

Artemis thought this over. Children were... not her specialty. But she was sure she could find something else to do in Bludhaven. “Very well. But perhaps we should take the long way around. If we go East, we can visit many countries, with many kinds of foods.”

That more than convinced him. Bizarro could hardly wait to leave the city so they could get going. And once she was settled on his back, he took off, leaving Egypt behind them, unaware of the devastation they had avoided. As it should be.

It was five days later when they were barely through Turkmenistan that Artemis started to seriously regret suggesting this path.

  
  


  
  


Jason pulled over, his bike tires skidding on the abandoned gravel road. Pulling off his helmet – a normal motorcycle one for once, he hung it on the handle bar and started hiking. This small bit of national park was close enough from the city that he could be there in less than half an hour if something happened, but far enough not to freak any kids out when they saw who he was going to talk to.

The hike was trickier than he'd expected. Lots of places where leaf litter concealed holes in the ground, even more hiding branches poking up from the underbrush. By the time he reached the clearing, he'd almost broken his ankle five times. But reach it he did. He stood in the center, and tried to calm himself. Then, he said, “Superman. Clark. I'd like a word if you don't mind.”

It took five minutes, five minutes of waiting before a blur of blue landed in the clearing, followed by a gust of wind. Jason blinked hard to get the dust out of his eyes, seriously regretting not bringing a domino. Superman stood up, taking a few steps forward so they could talk without having to raise their voices. Not that Jason would need to. “Sorry about the wait. There was a fire...” He waved one hand, a sort of, “You know how it is,” gesture.

And Jason did. No matter who called, innocent lives came first. “Yeah.”

And then there was an awkward pause, one Jason was happy to wait out. Clark looked him over, and if he was just looking through the visible light spectrum, Jason would eat his helmet. “You look like you've healed well.” Yup. Clark had been X-raying him. “I'm sorry about...”

“Yeah, well, I could have told you who I was, you could have asked first before punching me halfway across the city, that's not what I wanted to talk about.” Jason took his own step forward, just out of arms reach, and held out a file. “You owe me one Clark. And I'm here to collect.”

Clark grabbed the file and flipped through it quickly, his eyebrows inching closer and closer together. “Another clone? You've got to be kidding me.”

“Yeah, well, as you can see, this one doesn't have long to live. Another month, tops.” Jason flipped to the relevant data. “These are his medical records. I want you to take this to S.T.A.R., to whatever space hospitals the Green Lanterns know of, heck, get some time travel and ask the Legion of Superheroes. I need you to save his life.”

“What?” Clark's hands loosened on the files briefly, but they had barely fallen half an inch before he caught them again. “Every Bizarro clone has been incredibly unstable, and incapable of differentiating right and wrong. Why should I let this creature loose on the world?”

“Because he's been loose on the world for the past three weeks. I don't know about you, but I haven't heard of any kind of disaster in the Middle East, besides the usual ones. If Bizarro went on a rampage, everyone would know about it, and you and the Justice League would have already flown over there and stopped him. But since this is the first you're hearing about him, I'm guessing he's doing fine.” Jason leaned back a bit, crossing his arms. It was weird, almost being at eye level with Superman. Last time he'd been face to face with him – well, second last time – Jason had barely come up to his shoulder. “Besides. Isn't that what you heroes are about? Second chances?” Or in the case of most villains, fifteenth, sometimes sixteenth chances.

Superman sighed. Tapped his foot mindlessly, then stopped. Flipped through the file, then read through it again, slower this time. Jason just waited. Finally, Clark said, “Yes. I think we can do something. Although if Luthor couldn't do anything to stabilize the clone, I'm not sure what S.T.A.R. will be able to do. I'll see if I can contact Brainiac 5 and see if he has any insights.”

Jason nodded. “Thanks.”

“I'm assuming you don't want me to bring Batman into this?” Clark stared at him and Jason got the sudden impression of an uncle telling him that he knew what he should be doing so he should just go and do it already.

“Yeah, no, please keep him out. I have enough to deal with right now.” Jason pulled a piece of paper and wrote down a phone number on it. Not the phone he used with the kids. One of the phone numbers he gave to his informants so they could inform. “Call me on this when you have something.”

“Sure thing.” Clark took the paper and Jason started walking away. “And Jason?” Jason paused, knowing what was coming. Lectures, for everything he had done since he'd come back. “For what it's worth, I'm glad you're alive.”

Jason spun around, eyes wide with shock, but Superman was already gone.

  
  


  
  


Barbara looked over the papers Cass and Steph had thrust at her. The first sheet had, “Plan A,” written on it, followed by, “Do not use, such a bad idea!!!” So it looked like it was up to her to help them figure this out.

Plans A through M all had good points, and they all had very bad points. Plan N had the most merit so far, but it was still not a great idea. “So basically, you want to get back into Jason's good graces, but all you have so far is siccing Alfred on him.”

Steph twisted the toe of one boot on the floor. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Alfred is a good problem solver,” Cass added.

“He is,” Barbara allowed, “but he's better at helping you solve your own problems. You can't just throw him at a problem and hope it'll be magically fixed.” She leaned back in her chair, flipping back to Plan G. “You have a lot of good points in here. Just take out anything involving Alfred and literally anyone else in the hero community and you should be good.”

Cass took back the stack of papers and handed them to Steph. They both skimmed the plans, Cass going slower than Steph, but Steph waited for her to catch up. Steph wrinkled her nose. “That leaves us with just doing basic hero work around Bludhaven once a week! That'll take forever!”

“Yeah, trust builds slowly. That's the point.” Babs turned back to her computer and tapped a finger next to the keyboard for a few minutes. “You do have a point though. We shouldn't keep this from Alfred for any longer.”

Cass nodded. “He's restless. Jason is back, but he hasn't seen him yet.”

Babs smiled. “Yeah. I'll text him to meet me here. You two go scamper off, see if you can come up with a solid Plan O.”

“You got it boss lady!” Steph raced to the window, then tipped out of it backwards, giving Barbara a quick salute as she fell. Not to be outdone, Cass did a forward handspring through the window, not one part of her touching the frame.

Barbara just smiled and shook her head. She made sure she could see faint grapple lines attached to the next building over, then rolled over and closed the window. Then, she pulled out her phone. “ _Hey Alfred, long time no see. I've had a hankering for your pumpkin tarts lately, so I propose a trade. Those scones you like for a dozen tarts._ ” She sent out the text, and almost immediately received a reply.

“ _Those terms are most agreeable my dear. I shall fetch my rolling pin forthwith. Shall we meet for tea then?_ ”

“ _Sounds good Alfred. See you then!_ ” Tea was at eleven, so she had twelve hours. More than enough time to get some good sleep, and wake up early to bake the scones. If she knew Alfred, and she did, he was going to make the crust now and let it chill overnight. She hoped he would get enough sleep.

Texting her Birds a goodnight, she wheeled herself back to her room and climbed into bed. If something happened, her alarms would wake her.

But they didn't need to. She woke up to several status updates from Dinah, Helena and Zinda. Apparently, nothing interesting had happened, so they'd hit up a bar. From there, Dinah had started flirting with a man who hadn't been wearing his wedding ring, Helena had hogged the jukebox all night, and Zinda had ended up starting a bar fight, which had gotten them all kicked out. They were all on their various floors of the building, sleeping off hangovers.

Rolling her eyes, Barbara took her morning shower, then made her way to the kitchen. Some leftover ziti al forno had made for a light breakfast, and then she started on the scones.

It was one of the first things she'd learned how to bake. Her father all too often left the house with only coffee for breakfast, and she hadn't wanted him to go hungry. So, scones. For the simple reason that she'd heard they went well with coffee. She'd bake them, then tuck one or two into his jacket pockets the night before.

Montoya apparently couldn't count the number of times he'd reached into his pocket for a pen and instead pulled out a scone. And every time, he had been absolutely shocked that it had been in there. But he'd eaten them, so Babs had kept making them.

And she'd gotten rather good at them over the years. So much so that even Alfred had asked for the recipe. She had given it, and gladly, but he still appreciated when she made them for him. The scones were just coming out of the oven when the elevator notified her that someone was trying to access her floor. Pulling up the video feed, she smiled at the small wave Alfred gave her, then gave him access.

A warm smile and a hug greeted her when she opened the door. “Miss Barbara, it's lovely to see you again. I trust you're doing well?”

“As well as ever Alfred.” Once he had taken off his hat and coat and placed them in the front closet, she led him to her dining room table, where tea cups were already set up. He started unpacking the tarts while Babs put the scones on a plate and took the kettle off of the stove. Alfred took over the tea while she put her plate on the table, and soon enough, they were nibbling on their respective desired pastries while they waited for the tea to steep. “And how have you been?”

“Well enough. I've been keeping myself busy, not that that's difficult when I factor in Master Bruce's schedule as well as my own.” Alfred set down his scone, a wistful look in his eyes. “He has been keeping busy as well. I'd say he was keeping himself busy deliberately. He doesn't know how to react to Master Jason's return, so he hasn't given himself any time to.”

Barbara snorted and poured the tea. “That sounds like him. He needs to figure that out soon, before it's too late.” Alfred accepted his cup with thanks, and they both took a long, appreciative sip. “Actually, that's related to why I asked you here Alfred.”

“Oh?” Alfred put his cup down into his saucer soundlessly. “So it wasn't just a craving for my baked goods? My, however shall my ego recover?”

She chuckled. “I don't think your ego is one that is easily bruised Alfred. This next question might do it though. Is there any way Bruce could be listening to this conversation?”

Alfred wrinkled his nose. “Master Bruce has yet to sneak a tracer onto me that I did not immediately notice. The same goes for any listening devices.” He actually did look a little insulted at the implication.

“No one can fool you Alfred.” She dug into her pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. “The usual spy movie mumbo-jumbo applies here Alfred. Memorize this so we can burn it before you leave. I wouldn't be surprised if Bruce already knew all of this, but just in case, right?”

Alfred unfolded the paper, eyes widening. “Is this...?” He brought a hand up to cover the lower half of his face. If Babs didn't know better, she'd think she saw tears at the corners of his eyes. Of course, she did know. That's why she could be sure that those were tears.

She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm. “It is. Jason's phone number and current address. I'm sorry you didn't get it sooner.” But she had seen the level of security Bruce had put Jason's phone number under. Bruce was probably telling himself it was to keep Jason safe, in case the Batcave got breached. More likely, it was just to make it harder to reach.

Alfred dropped the hand not holding the paper, and rested it on Babs'. “Thank you Barbara. You have my deepest, sincerest gratitude.” His eyes flickered over the paper a few more times, then he reached into his pocket for his lighter. Usually, it was used for lighting candles at dinner. Now, it set fire to the note, which burned happily in the candy dish Barbara had taken out for this purpose. “I shall endeavor to make his favourite meals before I visit. He does still enjoy roasted butternut squash?”

“Your guess is as good as mine Alfred.” Babs leaned back in her chair and took a bite of her tart. Holy heaven Batman, that tart was the very definition of delicious. “I've only exchanged a few words with him. I've tapped into his security, but he has very few cameras in his apartment.” It was upsetting. In more ways than one. His security wasn't very good, and that was a problem. “Maybe ask Steph. She's been over three or four times, eaten his food, helped him manage the kids.”

“Helped him manage what?”

Dammit Bruce, learn to share information. “The kids. Jason has practically adopted the entire city of Bludhaven. He takes after Bruce in the most interesting of ways.”

Alfred smiled, wide and fond. “He does indeed Miss Barbara. Perhaps you can regale me with some tales of his exploits?”

“I don't know many of them.” She'd pieced together lots from traffic cam footage and postings on the RedKids message board and chat room, but the best stories still came second hand from Steph. “There was this one time that a girl called him to her hospital room, scared that the scar that would result from her life saving surgery would make her unattractive to any potential future boyfriends. So Jason...”

She told the tale from beginning to end, as much as she knew of it. And then another, when Jason had been trying to convince the children not to be late night vigilantes. Alfred laughed at that, remembering his own struggles trying to convince Bruce and Dick of the same. By the time Jason came around, he'd only made a token effort. That story had led into the interesting rescue from Black Mask's tower, which had been much easier to get thanks to Black Mask having cameras on every corner.

Barbara made them sandwiches for lunch, and by the time four o'clock rolled around and it was time for Alfred to get going, she was nearly out of both stories and tarts. “Thanks for visiting Alfred. It was lovely to see you.”

“The pleasure was all mine, I can assure you Miss Barbara.” He put the container of leftover scones into his bag, then gave her another hug. “Perhaps next time we have tea, we can simply have tea. No need for ulterior motives.”

“Absolutely. I look forward to it Alfred.” And with another hug and a smile, he was gone.

Barbara grabbed one of the remaining three tarts from her plate and rolled back to her computer. Between bites, she started preparing her next mission for the Birds. And maybe writing a new security program for Jason.

  
  


  
  


Jason was on the roof of the apartment, reading, when a voice above him called out, “Red Him!”

He tucked his current bookmark, a leaf Connie had pressed for him, into his page and looked up. “Oh, hey! That took a while. Did it really take a month to find the Bow?”

Artemis snorted as she jumped off of Bizarro's back. “Of course not. However, I may have indulged Bizarro in a food tour of the East, to my deepest regret.” She sat down heavily next to Jason, leaning a long, cylindrical case on the wall beside her. “We stopped in every village we flew over. Every. Village.”

“Bizarro had fun.” Bizarro alighted next to them, smiling brightly. The overalls and red t shirt he'd been wearing a month ago had been replaced by a blue hoodie and jeans. How they'd found jeans in his size was a mystery, but good for them. Carefully, Bizarro took his Superman plush out of his hoodie pocket and placed him on his knee. “Pup Pup did too.”

Jason gave the plush a pat on the head. “Glad to hear it buddy. So, what are-”

The door to the roof slammed open and four of the older kids – Oleksandr, Blanche, Marius and Christine – burst out, all outfitted with various makeshift weapons. Blanche stepped forward, worry and anger all over her face. “Back off Superman! If you want him, you're going to have to go through us!”

“Guys, no!” Jason stood up, holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “This isn't Superman! This is,” uh, “Superman's younger, better looking brother. Bizarro.” He laid a hand on Bizarro's shoulder, and Bizarro gave a small wave and a big smile. “He's a friend of mine. Same thing with Artemis here. They just got back from a trip around the world and stopped for a visit.”

Oleksandr glared at Bizarro, but lowered his frying pan. “You sure Red? We will not leave you if you are in danger.”

“I'm sure kiddo.”

The kids filed out, but not before Marius gave Bizarro an 'I'm watching you' gesture. Jason waited until the door closed then sat down, not even bothering to move back to the wall. “Sorry about that.”

Artemis huffed. “That certainly gave credence to your ridiculous story.” Jason made an offended noise and she raised an eyebrow at him. “You didn't honestly think we believed you when you said you'd been adopted by the children of Bludhaven?”

“Bizarro did!” Bizarro sat down next to Jason and put a hand on his shoulder. “Bizarro did.”

“Thanks buddy.” Jason patted Bizarro's hand until it became clear that he didn't intend to move it. “Artemis does have a point though. I barely believe it most days. So, what brings you both to town?”

“Bizarro miss Red Him.” Bizarro reached into his pocket and grabbed a wrapped package. “Bizarro got Red Him present.”

“Aw, thanks buddy!” The wrapping was neat, but not professional. A lot of care had gone into wrapping it. While Jason unwrapped it, carefully splitting the tape and not ripping the paper, he asked, “What about you Artemis?”

“Themyscira is in another dimension, which means there is no safe place I can take the Bow.” Artemis pulled the case onto her lap. “I could leave it with the League, but I do not trust them to keep it safe. I prefer to keep an eye on it myself.” She tapped one finger on the lid of the case. “Bizarro agreed to help me watch over it, and this is where he wanted to go.”

Jason nodded. “I'll help too, if I can. The kids will always take first priority though.”

“I would expect no less. The Bow is my burden. I will accept your assistance, but I will not expect you to carry it for me.”

With a quiet rustle, the last bit of tape split open. Jason pulled the intact piece of paper off, along with the lid of the box underneath. Inside was a small key chain of a red panda. “Cool! Thanks buddy!”

“Bizarro got it because it reminded Bizarro of Red Him. Red Him like it.”

“I do!” He fished the key to his motorcycle out of his pocket and took it off of the plain key chain that had come with the bike. He replaced it with the red panda, then showed Bizarro. “There. Now I can take him with me.”

Bizarro grinned widely and started floating, legs still crossed like he was sitting.

They spent an hour on the roof, Jason and Artemis talking about good ways to keep the Bow safe, while Bizarro hummed above them.

  
  


  
  


“Red?” The plaintive voice stopped Jason in his tracks. He'd been on the fifth floor fixing the broken sink in Cynthia's bathroom and had just been heading for the elevator. He turned around to face the common room and immediately saw what the problem was. Ken, the boy who had called out to him, smiled sheepishly. “Help?”

Ken, Ally, Seymour, and Charlotte were the knitters on this floor. They liked to sit in the common room and watch whatever was on TV while making hats or scarves or blankets. It was relaxing, it was something they could do with their hands, and the clothing they made either went to kids in the building who needed them or to charity. And all of their projects were tangled together.

Jason looked at the brightly coloured knot of yarn with foreboding. “How did this happen?”

“Um,” started Charlotte, “Well. We put all of our projects in the knitting bag, like we always do. But yesterday we wanted to go upstairs so we could knit with Dawn and them. So we took the bag with us.”

“And I was kind of excited, so I was swinging the bag around a lot.” Seymour was staring at his feet. “And when we got upstairs, we started playing Monopoly instead. And then we took the bag downstairs and we opened it up today and it was like this.”

With a sigh, Jason sat on the floor next to the bag. He started tugging at the tangle, trying to pull it apart a bit. “These things happen. Maybe we should see about getting you guys separate knitting bags though.”

“Oh! We could make them!” Ken handed his blue scarf over to Jason when he motioned for it, and it passed under another project's red yarn. And another. “We could get some thicker yarn and make really big baskets and that would be so cool!”

Ally grinned, pulling her ball of red yarn around a strand of purple until it was a little less tangled. Then she wound the excess yarn around the ball, and kept untangling. “I think I saw a pattern for that somewhere online. It's for crochet though.”

Ken frowned for a second, then smiled again. “We could learn crochet!”

“You could definitely learn crochet.” The red project was free. It was just blue, purple, and grey left. “I think Sugar knows how to crochet. You could ask her for lessons. Or check YouTube.”

“Red Him, what am crochet?”

Jason didn't jump at the unexpected voice, but it was a near thing. “Hey Bizarro. Don't sneak up on me like that bud.”

Bizarro looked exactly as contrite as he needed to be and not a bit more. “Bizarro sorry. What am crochet?”

“It's a way of taking yarn and making it into other things, like scarves or stuffed toys. Kind of like knitting, but instead of two sticks,” he gestured to Charlotte's needles, and she held them up helpfully even as she gave Bizarro a distrustful look, “it uses a small hook thing.”

Bizarro hummed, and he sat on the floor next to Jason, watching him untangle the purple and grey yarn. “Can Bizarro crochet?”

“You'd have to ask Sugar for lessons, but yeah. I don't see why not.”

Bizarro hummed. “Red Her looking for you.”

“Alright. I'll track her down after I finish this.” Jason held up the knot of yarn, now down to two colours.

“Um.” Ally, who had been quiet until now, held up another pair of knitting needles. “I can teach you how to knit Mr. Zarro. If you want.”

Bizarro looked at the needles curiously, and scooched over until he was sitting next to Ally's chair. She handed him an extra ball of yarn, this one a combination of green and pink. “What Bizarro do first?”

“Well, first you make a slip knot.” She showed him, then undid it and showed him again slowly. He watched closely and tied his own. “Very good. And then you put it on your needle like this. Yeah! Now pull it tight. And then, this part is a bit tricky, you grab the long end of the string, and you twist like this and put it on your needle. No, like this.” She reached for his hand, hesitated, then grabbed it and twisted his hand so that the yarn formed a loop on the needle. Bizarro did the next loop by himself. “Ok, good. Now, do that another twenty two times.”

Jason smiled as the eight year old kept talking to Bizarro. Finally, he got the blue and grey projects untangled and made to stand up. “You have fun big guy. Play nice with him, ok kids? He's like, a month old.”

“We will,” they chorused.

“Red Her downstairs,” Bizarro said helpfully, still counting his stitches.

“Thanks Bizarro.”

The ride in the elevator was short. Too short, as it turned out. The doors opened and there was Artemis, glaring at him from the other side of the lobby. “There you are! What are you teaching these children?”

“Lots. You're going to have to be more specific.” Jason walked towards her, waving at Sugar as he passed. Artemis was standing in the doorway of the dojo, so it was probably something about that. “Aikido mostly. It's a good self defense martial art. A few judo moves thrown in, because knowing how to get out of a pin is important.”

She made a noise of displeasure at him. “Your logic is sound, I suppose. But why are you not teaching them more offensive moves?”

“Because I don't want them using those to do what I do. I want them to have normal lives, not waste their time, energy and health trying to fight crime.” He leaned in the doorway, opposite of Artemis, and watched the kids in the dojo practice. “Self defense is what they need to survive in Bludhaven. More than that will get them killed.”

“You have little faith in these children.”

“No, I know them.” He pointed at one of the older kids, supervising two younger ones and showing them how to do better pins. “That's Tony. He was one of several dozen kids who, with no training whatsoever, decided to copy me. He got shot and nearly died.”

“And yet not every person who learns Krav Maga does what you do.” Artemis turned so she was facing him head on. “I will be teaching these children. They will not copy you. And no one will hurt them ever again.”

Jason stared at her, thinking. He knew she would do it anyways. She wasn't asking permission, she was telling him. But also, he knew next to nothing about her. Nothing besides her reputation. She did seem like a very straightforward person though. Artemis said that no harm would come to the children, and Jason believed her. And if she ever wanted to destroy him, she would. She would battle him directly. She would win, if she fought him seriously, and she wouldn't need to hurt the children to do so. He trusted her. That hadn't worked out so well with Steph (or Bruce, or Sheila, although what they had done to him was much worse than what Steph had done), but he wasn't willing to let himself stop trusting people. The kids trusted him, almost unconditionally. Despite all the pain and abuse and general crap they'd gone through, they trusted him.

“Have fun. But try to go easy on them? They're fragile human children.”

Artemis snorted. “I have trained children before.” As Jason was walking away, she called, “I shall also be training your women's class.”

“You have to leave me a few classes, come on! What am I going to do all day?”

“Perhaps learn to crochet. Sugar there is quite proficient.”

The elevator doors closed before Jason could reply. He sighed and leaned up against the wall. They'd been living with him for two days, and already his life was way more hectic. Good thing he had all those extra rooms on his floor, or he'd be getting no peace at all.

The elevator dinged and he stepped out onto the twenty second floor. It was empty, for now, which meant his comings and goings could go unnoticed. So, he headed to the stairwell and headed for the roof.

Except he didn't quite make it to the roof.

Because there was a man standing in front of where the door to the twenty third floor should have been if it hadn't been blocked off. A man in a sharp suit, holding a covered crock in his hands.

Jason missed the next step and the noise he made while trying to catch himself caught the attention of the man. He turned around.

“Alfred?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY (in two weeks...)!!!!!!  
> In two weeks it'll be one year since I started posting this on this site! Hooray! Time really does fly when you're procrastinating writing new chapters. It just... it just goes. Look at it go.  
> ...  
> To celebrate the one year anniversary, have an extra long chapter! It is in no way an apology gift for making you lovely readers wait two whole months!  
> To all the readers who started reading on day one, thank you so much for sticking around! To the readers who started today, welcome! To the readers who started sometime between those two points, you're amazing! I can honestly say that this story wouldn't be anywhere close to what it is without you. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you all have lovely days!  
> Man, what a cliffhanger though. I hope I don't leave that for too long. That would suck...  
> Oh! I drew up a [floor plan](https://loxare.tumblr.com/post/167756506562/and-now-for-something-nobody-asked-for-the-floor) for River Heights Apartments and Dojo. If that link doesn't work, it's on my tumblr blog (same username), you can find it under the tag Help 2: The Helpening.  
> That's all for now. Loxie OUT!


	19. Lemon Polish, Red and Blue Chill, and Sonvalescing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Jason meet for the first time in years. Artemis and Bizarro chat on the roof. Jason helps a kid do some shopping.

Jason knew he should do something. Move. Run. Towards Alfred? Away? Say something, probably. Definitely. But he couldn't move. He simply braced himself for the lecture, for the disappointment, for the blame. He watched as Alfred stooped, quickly placing the crock he'd been carrying on the floor – on the _floor_ – then just as fast, straightening up and moving forward. Jason nearly stepped back, but Alfred caught him by the shoulders before he could and pulled him into a hug.

For a moment, Jason just stood there, unable to move, speak, breathe. Then, when his lungs began protesting, he took a quick breath through his nose, and then another. Unscented laundry soap, lemon scented furniture polish, and basil. Jason had identified these smells long ago during olfactory training, and none of them had changed. Alfred still smelled the same. Slowly, Jason's own arms circled around Alfred's back.

All too quickly, Alfred pulled away, putting both his hands on Jason's face, one thumb swiping at tears Jason hadn't noticed. “Master Jason, my boy. You've come back.” His hand brushed through Jason's hair, pushing it back out of Jason's face. “You're alive.” Fingers softly alighted on the edge of his domino, but did nothing more until Jason nodded. Carefully, Alfred pried the mask off, fingers rubbing off any glue still sticking to Jason's skin. “My dear boy.”

“Alfred. I-” Jason had to stop, to try and swallow down the tears trying to overwhelm him. “I'm-”

“None of that now Master Jason. Let us find a place to sit and eat, before the food I've brought goes cold.” Alfred ran a thumb over Jason's cheek once more, then handed back his domino and turned to pick up the crock. “Now, I was rather sure your apartment was on this floor, but there doesn't seem to be a doorway...”

“Ah, yeah.” Jason pressed his mask back over his eyes. The glue was weak and wouldn't hold for too long, but it would get him back to his apartment. “I had that barricaded before I opened up the apartment. I didn't want any of the kids getting at my stuff.” Mostly the guns and swords, but he shuddered to think of what the kids would do to his kitchen. As he led the way upstairs, he said, “Normally I just grapple down from the roof.”

Alfred nodded. “Understandable. However, it might be difficult to grapple down while keeping this upright,” he said, indicating the crock. “Do you have another way in?”

“None that doesn't involved grappling.” The only other way up, the little closet behind the dojo, needed a grapple. He opened the door to the roof, holding it so Alfred could walk through. “Although I could maybe ask Bizarro.”

“Yes, Red Him?” Bizarro materialized in a formerly unoccupied patch of air, holding his knitting needles in his hands. Alfred jumped slightly, the lid of the crock rattling at the sudden movement.

“Alfred, this is Bizarro. He's a friend. Bizarro, this is Alfred-”

“His grandfather.” Alfred cut Jason off, which was good because he wasn't entirely sure how to introduce him. Butler was accurate, but didn't seem right. And friend was too small a word. Still though, grandfather? Alfred passed him the crock, ignoring his embarrassed silence, and took Bizarro's knitting in both hands. “Hm. You aren't gaining or dropping any stitches, but you do seem to be having difficulty with tension.”

“Bizarro know GrandRed. Bizarro try.” Bizarro looked down at his work with a small frown. “Bizarro only learn today.”

“Well, then. This is fantastic work for a beginner. You must have a wonderful teacher.”

“Ally good. Bizarro learn good.” Bizarro smiled wide, accepting his knitting back. “Red Him need help?”

“Um. Yeah.” Jason forced his mind to focus. “Could you take this down to my apartment? I don't want to drop it while we get down.”

Bizarro nodded solemnly, tucking his knitting into a bag slung over his shoulder that one of the kids must have given him. “Bizarro understand.” And then he grabbed Alfred around the waist and Jason around the stomach and the next thing Jason knew he was standing in his kitchen, Alfred beside him and the lid of the crock rattling at the sudden motion. Bizarro was nowhere to be seen.

There was a beat of silence, then Jason said, “Bizarro that is not what I said and you know it!” Bizarro not being in the room didn't mean he couldn't hear, and Jason just knew he was floating down on the fifth floor, knitting and giggling at Jason's expense. Jason just sighed and put the crock down on the coffee table. “Sorry Alfred, I don't have a kitchen table, so we'll have to eat on the couch.”

“That's quite alright.” Alfred grabbed the plates from the cupboard and set them on the coffee table, along with cutlery. “I am simply happy to have the opportunity to share a meal with you at all, dear boy.”

“Yeah.” Jason picked up his serving spoon and hesitated. “Alfred...”

Alfred reached out and gently pried the serving spoon out of Jason's hand. “Master Jason. I know that you have quite a bit that you wish to discuss with me. And I promise, I will gladly listen. But if you could do an old man one small favour...” He paused, then gathered himself. “May I have one meal with you, without any cross words?”

Jason needed to confront Alfred about the things he had said, had allowed Bruce to say, about him while he was gone. He needed to know _why_. He needed to know where he had gone wrong, to make them think such terrible things about him. But at the same time, Alfred had never once asked Jason for anything in the years he had lived in the Manor (besides keeping himself and his room clean, which was a small price to pay for three meals a day plus snacks). And after four years, what Alfred was asking was more than tempting. It was welcome. So, Jason said, “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

Alfred smiled. And Jason was probably imagining the bit of water at the corners of his eyes. Even if he wasn't, Alfred quickly turned to the crock, serving spoon in hand. “Thank you. Now. I made one of your favourites.” He lifted the lid and the smell of Alfred's pineapple chicken filled the room and made Jason's mouth water.

The crock was divided down the middle by a metal insert. On one side, the cubes of chicken and chunks of pineapple sat happily in soy-honey sauce. Jason would kill for that sauce. He'd tried making it, but he was always missing something. Maybe he could get the recipe today. On the other side was plain, white rice, which Alfred scooped out into the two plates he'd taken out. Then he served the pineapple chicken and handed one of the plates to Jason. Once they were both seated, Alfred asked, “So, what have you been up to since you arrived in Bludhaven? I did pass a rather large number of children on my way up.”

Jason smiled. “Yeah, um, they live here. I bought this building so they could have somewhere safe to stay.” He took a bite of chicken, relishing in the flavour.

“Really?” Alfred ate a bite as well. “That's very admirable of you Master Jason. How did it come about?”

“It just did, sort of. I started handing out my phone number to the kids in the city, and told them to call if they needed anything.”

“Oh? What kind of anything?”

“Help. Any kind.” Jason speared a pineapple and waited until he'd chewed and swallowed it before continuing. “I've talked kids down from buildings. Helped with homework. Found lost pets. Saved them from kidnappers. Anything.”

Alfred draped an arm over Jason shoulders and squeezed, then took it back so he could eat. “I am proud of what you've done with these children, my boy.”

Jason’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly looked away, trying to hide his smile. “Thanks Alfred.”

Alfred grabbed his shoulder briefly, then went back to eating. The rest of the meal passed in silence and small talk, and Jason couldn't remember the last time he was this happy.

 

 

 

* * *

  
  


Artemis stepped out onto the roof, squinting her eyes against the sunlight. As the small one with the braids had told her, Bizarro was indeed sitting on the edge of the roof, knitting. “Bizarro. Have you seen the little one? I require equipment for training.” Children had short arms, and required tools to extend their reach. A short staff would do nicely, although the little one would probably object to any item that could not be hidden inside backpacks. Artemis would suggest blades, but Red Hood would object to that more.

Besides that, her first training session had gone well. The children did not trust her, but Red Hood appeared to, and that seemed to be enough for them. And after assessing their skills, which were better than she had expected, she had begun her instruction. Red Hood had focused mainly on street fighting, and close quarters fighting, and both were very necessary, especially in an urban environment. However, the streets of Bludhaven were wider than the streets of Gotham, a consequence of not being restricted to an island, which should allow the children to have a freer fighting style.

Bizarro looked up at her and held a finger to his lips. “Shh Red Her. Red Him's granpa am visiting.”

“What?” Artemis raised an eyebrow. While it wasn't particularly surprising that Red Hood had a family – most people came from somewhere after all – it was surprising that they visited him. “What are they saying?”

Putting his hand back on his knitting, Bizarro started humming. Artemis sat next to him, having nothing much else to do until her next class in half an hour. Eventually, Bizarro said, “GrandRed said he am proud of Red Him. But he say 'Master Jason', not Red Him.”

“Ah. Jason must be Red Hood's real name then.” A good name, as far as names went. And it was nice to have something to use to refer to him in her mind besides Red Hood. It was getting tedious.

“Red Him not Red Him's name?” Bizarro frowned at his knitting, as if it held the answers. All it held was a scarf with another row done. Slowly, he switched his needle from one hand to the other, then started another row.

“It is.” She sighed. She was not a fan of this practice, although she did understand it had a practical purpose. “Most of the heroes here have more than one name. Their real name, which is the one they use when they are in casual clothes. For little one, it would be a name used when he's not wearing his small mask. Then they have their hero name, which they use when they are out fighting villains. This is to protect them and their loved ones, and to prevent villains from attacking them in their homes.”

Bizarro nodded. He messed up a stitch, but didn't know how to correct it, so he continued on in the row. “Does Red Her have other name?”

“I used to.” Artemis smiled. Her time as Wonder Woman had ended poorly, with her death in fact, but she had enjoyed it. “I was Wonder Woman for a while. Then I went by Requiem. But I have disposed of both titles. I am simply Artemis now.” Bizarro frowned slightly at that. “However, if you wish, you may continue to all me Red Her.” The nickname was growing on her, she had to admit.

Bizarro brightened again. “Does Bizarro have other name?”

“Ask Red Hood.” Jason was the one who wanted to name Bizarro Bizarro, he could deal with any other names the clone might require.

Bizarro nodded. He finished his row and started a new one. And Artemis enjoyed the afternoon sun – not nearly as hot as what she was used to, but still nice – until it was time for her class to start. She could get staves from Jason at another time.

 

* * *

  
  


Two days later and Jason was still ludicrously happy. He'd just missed Alfred so much. After they'd eaten, Alfred had shown Jason a new cupcake recipe that he'd picked up. And after Bizarro had given Alfred a lift back to the ground and Alfred had hugged Jason goodbye, Jason had slept without nightmares for the first time in ages.

He was even humming as he bustled about the apartment kitchen, helping Dani and the rest of the cooks make snacks. Apple slices and peanut butter. When his phone rang, he set aside his paring knife and rinsed his hands off quickly. “Hello, Red Hood botany, from ferns to fertilizer, how can I help you today?”

“I...” The boy on the other end of the line hesitated. “My mom is sick. I just...”

Jason headed out of the kitchen, waving bye to Dani. “I'm sorry to hear that. Can the doctors do anything?”

“Yeah. It was scary for a while when we thought it was cancer, but it turns out it's a fairly treatable bacteria in her lymph system that looked like cancer.” He sounded relieved, almost like he couldn't believe it.

“Ugh. Cancer is... not great.” Jason had a sudden flashback to memories of doctor's visits, his own mom growing thinner and thinner, until the money ran out and they couldn't afford treatment anymore. That had been when the heroin started. “Glad to hear she's cancer free..”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah. It's... it's a relief. Anyways. I need help shopping for groceries. Mom always does it, and since Dad and Annie moved out, it's up to me now. But I've never done any kind of meal planning, so I don't know what to get. Can you help?”

“Sure I can. Am I just helping with the meal plan, or are we going shopping?”

“Both?”

“Alrighty...” Jason trailed off. He hadn't introduced himself yet.

“Kim. I'm Kim. And I can meet you at the SuperMart on Blue.”

“Sure thing Kim, see you in half an hour.”

Jason smeared some temporary dye into his hair, to better cover the white bit. Not that he really needed to. More than a few teens and young adults were walking around with similar hairstyles. But better safe than sorry. All the kids knew what colour his hair was, so there wasn't much point in hiding that. But he did pop in some brown colour contacts and put on his biggest pair of sunglasses. It would do.

He took his motorcycle, lamenting the lack of grocery space in it. He normally did his shopping at a mom and pop store down the street, before it opened. He always left more than enough to cover for his groceries, and once he'd fixed up a leaking pipe in the sink in the back. After that, the owner had left a note saying that if he needed anything, let them know and they'd try and order it in.

Point was, his groceries were normally a bag or two, so he just carried them home from patrol. He wasn't exactly sure how much Kim was getting. Enough to feed two people for a week at least. All healthy food though, which Jason could work with.

Jason pulled into a parking stall and texted Kim that he was there. He texted him back saying he was inside already, looking at oranges. And so he was, holding a navel orange in one hand and a blood orange in the other. “Blood oranges have more vitamin C,” Jason said, coming to a stop a few feet away.

Kim jumped slightly, then looked at him and smiled. “Good to know. Mom's on a high protein, high calorie diet right now, but extra vitamin C can't hurt.” He carefully placed the blood oranges into his basket, and picked it up.

“Well, it can, but you'd have to eat a lot of oranges before it does.” Jason suggested a few more vegetables with dense calories like sweet potatoes and corn, and then they moved into the grocery aisles. Kim kept looking at him and biting his lip and then looking away again. “You know,” Jason said, “if you need to talk, I'll listen.”

Kim looked up at him again, then nodded slowly. “Mom is... She's always been there. But we've always known she was going to die early. Heart transplant,” he explained, noticing Jason's expression, “when I was a baby. Average life expectancy is nine, ten years. But you know, it always seemed like she was going to keep going. She's taken great care of her heart, and she's had it for fifteen years, and I just-” Kim sniffled, scrubbing at his eyes with his sweater sleeve, “I thought that maybe she could keep going.”

Jason wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I know. Life has a way of getting your hopes up and then smashing them.”

He nodded again, then grabbed a can of soup off of the shelf and stared at the nutrition information for way longer than was required to read it. Jason grabbed a differnet can and started reading the ingredients. After a minute, Kim started again. “She's been getting sicker and sicker for a while. We haven't been able to afford to see a doctor though. And now... she's lost a lot of weight. Even if the medicine does it's job, even if the infection goes away, she might not...” Kim shook his head. Carefully, he put the can back on the shelf. “Not enough protein.”

“Try this one.” Jason handed him his can of soup. One of the hearty ones with chunks of steak in it.

After a much quicker read through of the nutrition information, Kim said, “Yeah, this should be good. Thanks.”

They wandered down a few more aisles, putting high protein nutrition shakes and a can of roasted cashews into the basket. At some point, Jason had taken possession of the basket, but he didn't mind.

They were in the pop aisle getting gingerale – Kim's mom's favourite drink – when Kim started talking again. “My dad keeps telling me that I can talk about my feelings with him. And I can, I know I can. But I... I don't know what my feelings are. I'm mostly scared, but Mom keeps telling me not to be scared. So I push all those feelings down, so I can be strong. For my dad, and my sister.”

Jason hummed in acknowledgement. “I'm probably the last person to talk to about proper emotion management. Well, second last. Maybe third.” That got a chuckle out of him. It was small and a little watery, but it was there. “But you don't have to be an emotionless brick wall to be strong.”

Kim was silent as he grabbed a container of yogurt out of the cooler. “Really?”

“Really.” Jason switched the basket to his other side, then put his newly freed hand on Kim's shoulder, giving it a squeeze before dropping his hand again. “It's ok to cry. It's ok to not cry.”

Pressing his shoulder against Jason's arm, Kim sniffled. “Yeah. Thanks.” He gave the basket a quick once over. “When did we pick up rice?”

“I grabbed it from the end there.” Jason pointed. “Rice goes with pretty much everything, and it's really easy to make.”

“Makes sense.” Kim moved the bag of rice, inspecting the groceries under it. “Maybe some frozen veggies? And some meat.”

“Frozen veggies are good. And cod is really high in protein. And it tastes great with the broccoli.” Hm. “I have some really good cod recipes at my place. I can send you a picture of them when I get back. Do you have a fully stocked spice rack?”

“Oh yeah. Mom loves trying new foods, so we have more spices than we know what to do with half the time.”

“Great.” There was a small bottle of lemon juice next to the fish, which Jason added to the basket as well as a bag of frozen cod. He also picked up a package of chicken so Kim and his mom could have something to eat tonight. “I think that's everything. I have a bunch of really easy recipes for most of this stuff you can try.”

“Cool.”

They took their basket to the cashier and waited while she rang them in. Kim handed over his club card and some cash, and then they headed out.

Kim lived about ten blocks away from the grocery store, which was good if he needed to run out for more food. Jason dropped him at the door and waved goodbye as Kim went up the elevator, shopping bags dangling from his hands.

The drive home was filled with memories of his own mom.

Jason didn't sleep well that night, but he didn't regret taking Kim's call.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Yay!
> 
> If anyone is confused about the chapter title, convalescing is a word for recovering from an illness. And it's Sonvalescing. Because it's her son. Haha, I think I'm funny


End file.
